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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29176197">Because I Could Not Stop for Death</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MBM/pseuds/MBM'>MBM</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Black Hermione Granger, F/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Reptilia28's Don't Fear the Reaper Challenge, Slight Ron Weasley Bashing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:35:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>38,598</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29176197</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MBM/pseuds/MBM</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, has died. Voldemort has won, and all his sacrifices were for naught. Surprisingly, the one who is angriest about it is his own Grim Reaper because his third time wasn’t a charm after all. He’s got to convince his Reaper that he’s worth betting on one last time, knowing that if he fails again, they’re both screwed.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>124</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>195</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue: The Show Must Go On</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>It has been quite some time since I wrote any fanfiction of any kind, much less attempted a lengthy one, so this challenge seemed like a good way to get back into it. Major plot points are mostly planned, but there is still a lot undecided, so I will likely add characters as they show up, and add pairings as I decide on them. Thank you in advance for bearing with me while I iron out details.</p><p>Hopefully, at some point, I write enough in advance to have some kind of schedule, but as of right now I am just posting as I finish chapters. Hopefully, I won't keep anyone waiting too long.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>HOW often had he seen that flash of green fill his vision? He had relived that fateful night so often throughout his seventeen years that he had long ago lost count. Now, he blinks his eyes open, trying to remember where he’d fallen asleep. Were they still in the tent? No, Bill and Fleur’s beach cottage? It would explain why everything is so bright. But as he blinks, squinting as he expected everything around him to appear blurry as they always did when he didn’t wear his glasses, he is surprised to find that he’s not in any cottage at all. He has no idea <em> where </em> he is currently.</p><p>     “Mr. Potter? Harry Potter?” Harry moves his eyes away from the corner of the otherwise empty white room he’s been looking around, over to where a door has opened and a figure stands. A pair of dark eyes in a brown, androgynous face glares at him from the doorway. “This way, then.”</p><p>     They don’t wait to see if he is going to follow, disappearing back through the doorway, and Harry stands up quickly. He wants answers and he figures he’s more likely to get them with that person than he will sitting around in a room by himself. He goes through the open door and into a long hallway with doors lined on either side. The figure who called him is continuing on, their gray robe barely brushing the ground and a hood lying flat against their back. They are halfway down the hall when they stop, look back to see he’s currently coming, and then open the sixth door on their left. When Harry catches up, he sees that they have sat down behind a desk.</p><p>     He steps cautiously into the office, his brain trying to make sense of what is going on. Wasn’t he just fighting at Hogwarts? What happened? He’s still disoriented, trying to piece together the events that lead him to be in this unfamiliar place with this stranger. </p><p>     “I can’t believe you’re here <em> again </em> ,” the person says, waving a hand towards one of the chairs in front of their desk, indicating Harry should sit as they continue, tone clearly exasperated, “ <b> <em>already</em> </b>.” </p><p>     “Where is ‘here’, precisely?” Harry questions, slowly sitting down and moving his head only slightly to take in what little else is in the room without actually losing sight of this person.</p><p>     “Limbo. Purgatory. The place between. So on and so forth.” They wave their hand in a circular motion to indicate they could go on, then turn to a stack of folders on the right side of their desk. “Basically you’re dead.” They start muttering, ranting really, almost as if they have forgotten Harry’s there as they go through the folders. “Again.” They slap a thing folder they’d picked up on the other side of the desk for emphasis. “Record breaking destined hero, and he can’t even manage to stay alive to confront said destiny.”</p><p><em>     The flash of green </em> , Harry recalls. That’s right, he was hit with the Killing Curse by Voldemort. Again. It wasn’t a memory, it was him dying. Then the implication of what was just said hits him. “Wait, ‘again’? I’ve died <em> before </em>?” </p><p>     A nod. “Yup. Three times before, to be precise.” They pause in their search to tap a finger on a nameplate sitting between them and Harry, drawing the wizard’s attention to it for the first time. Before his eyes, the strange markings morph into letters he recognizes: ‘Maquetauire Guayaba’. “Call me Yaba. You’ll butcher my name otherwise.” Meaning he’d done it before.</p><p>     Fair, as Harry couldn’t begin to guess how to accurately say their full name. “Okay, Yaba. You said I’ve been here <em> three times </em>before? So I’ve died-”</p><p>     “Four times.” Yaba confirms. “FOUR!” They slap another folder down. “‘Destined Heroes’ was supposed to be an upgrade, you know; less frustrating than Catalysts. <em> Catalysts </em> are unpredictable. Destined heroes have a <em> moral compass </em> . I was well on my way to breaking the record. FIFTEEN straight destined heroes with no failures, but no. <em> You </em> -” Yaba points an accusing finger at Harry, eyes narrowed “-were assigned to me, and instead of defeating your enemies, changing the world for the better, living to some ridiculously old age with your soulmate, and cementing my success as a Reaper, you keep <em> dying </em> . You can’t even keep your soulmate straight! Mixing up some Granger girl with that other one with the G name. Or is it the other way around? I don’t even know anymore!” Yaba throws their hands up in frustration before grabbing another folder. “It’s downright-” they slapped another folder down on their left “-fucking-” and then another “ <em> infuriating </em>!” ending with another loud slap. This time, though, the folder is a thicker one that they smack down in front of themselves. </p><p>     Mind racing with questions, and unsure where to even begin, Harry blurts out one word before he’s actively decided to ask any of them. “How?” It seems as good a place as any to start figuring things out, his mind whirling between the astonishing idea that he’s died so often, and the possibly equally surprising revelation that <em> Hermione </em> is his soulmate. Or could be, if Yaba hasn’t mixed her up with Ginny, the only other “G name” Harry can think of at the moment. Unless he means that Slytherin girl, Greengrass? He shakes his head, not wanting to get distracted. </p><p>     “How?” Yaba flips the folder in front of them open with a sigh. “Let’s see. This will probably start triggering memories, by the way, so try not to freak out. It’s normal, since this is where your lives converge.” They flip past the first two pages, Harry catching enough of a glimpse to see that even if he wasn’t looking at them upside down, all the information was written in unfamiliar markings he neither recognizes nor can he begin to guess what language or culture they originate from. They have no problem, however, as they stop on the third page. “The first time, you died approximately forty-four days short of your sixteenth birthday, after getting hit by simultaneous dark curses in an attempt to protect your soulmate.”</p><p>     Yaba adds more details, giving the location, but Harry’s remembering even as they speak. The Department of Mysteries, with members of Dumbledore’s Army. They had been tricked. No, <em> he </em> had been tricked, into believing that Sirius was in danger and the others had run headlong into danger with him. They had been running through one strange room after another, trying to stay ahead of the Death Eaters, and Hermione had tried to silence one but missed and they’d responded with a dark curse Harry had never heard of but resulted in a whip of dark purple flames heading right for her. He hadn’t stopped to think when he put himself between it and Hermione, his body had just moved and he’d grabbed her, turning them so it struck him in the back. At that same moment, someone else had aimed the Killing Curse at him, and his last memory was of Hermione’s shocked eyes on his. Then he had woken up in the empty white waiting room Yaba had pulled him from. </p><p>     “What happened after?” He interrupts, leaning forward in his chair. “Hermione, after I died, did she escape?”</p><p>     Yaba looks up from the folder, staring at Harry, annoyed. “What do you think? Not that it matters. It was all undone when I sent you back for your second attempt.<em> That </em> time…” They trail off, flipping through to another page. “Here we go, yes, the second time you go through the Battle of the Department of Mysteries -- what a stupid name -- you managed to get through that whole debacle pretty much unscathed.” Harry frowns, starting to recall his second life and remembering that the second time, although she survives, Hermione was hit with the curse he’d protected her from the first time.</p><p>     “Instead, you die at the Battle of the Astronomy Tower. You were knocked out of the tower when you were hit with the Killing Curse. Wait.” Yaba lifts the previous page, squinting at the edge. “No, that was the <em> third </em> time. I remember, that’s one of the times you inexplicably didn’t choose your soulmate. Ah ha, stuck together.” They pull the two pages apart and go back. “The second time you didn’t drink enough <em> Felix Felicis </em> and ended up accidentally drinking some of the Acromantula venom your professor collected.”</p><p>     Harry winces, remembering suddenly the way the venom had seemed to burn him from the inside a few minutes after drinking it. When he had been bitten in his fourth year, the effects had been infinitely slower, and less noticeable. “Right. That almost destroyed my magical core. I had to be rushed to St. Mungo’s from the infirmary, and Mrs. Weasley offered to take me home for a few weeks over the summer while I recovered. I was trying to get away from Ginny, who kept trying to get me alone on my birthday, when-”</p><p>     “You fell down the stairs and broke your neck.” Yaba is actually <em> grinning </em> . “I’ll admit, that one was kind of funny. It’s like the less interested you are, the more persistent and desperate that girl becomes.” They frown then. “Still, would have preferred you <em> not </em>dying. Then there’s this latest-”</p><p>     “-which doesn’t make sense.” Harry interrupts. He’s on the edge of his seat, leaning forward onto the desk. “All those other times, something happened to kill the piece of Voldemort’s soul attached to me. I remember, we talked about it after the second time, ‘cause I was wondering why the venom didn’t kill me when it had basically drained me of almost all my magic and you said it was because it burning through magic attaching Voldemort’s soul to me first kept my last bit of magic from being destroyed.”</p><p>     Yaba nods. “Correct. And all the other times, something killed that soul piece first too. Including this time.”</p><p>     “How?”</p><p>     “You interrupted,” they point out. “This last time, Tom Riddle destroyed his own soul piece, and then you were eaten.”</p><p>     Harry blinks. “I was <em> what </em>?”</p><p>     “Eaten.” Yaba repeats, slowly. “The snake passed by you after the curse hit you, felt the warmth of your body, and decided to bite and eat you.”</p><p>     “So let me get this straight. I’ve been cursed multiple times, fallen to my doom twice, and then <em> eaten </em>?”</p><p>     Yaba nods. “It’s quite impressive, and if you weren’t making <em> my </em> afterlife miserable, I might even be entertained at all the ways you manage to fail.”</p><p>     “Look, I’m trying my best,” Harry argues. “I’m working blind here, and I wouldn’t have ever gone to the damn Department of Mysteries if Dumbledore had just been open with me about what was going on so I didn’t have to keep trying to figure it out through my <em> literal enemy </em> . I mean, a prophecy? They were protecting a <em> prophecy </em>? And one that basically Voldemort already knew the general gist of? It was such a stupid secret!</p><p>     “And that memory he had me try to get from Slughorn! I nearly died getting it, and it was just Slughorn telling Voldemort about Horcruxes. Pointless, and okay, maybe he wasn’t completely aware of it at the time, since he didn’t actually know what Slughorn’s memory was going to be, but his pulling me out of St. Mungo’s and forcing me to go to the Burrow was on him. He kept making comments about Ginny reminding him of my mom and asking how things were going; it was not subtle.”</p><p>     Harry suddenly snaps his finger. “Oh! The tower! That killing curse wasn’t even aimed at me, it was aimed at <em> him </em> ! They were trying to kill <em> him </em> and he basically used me as a meat shield!” Harry practically growls, hands balling into fists. “Manipulative bastard, playing everyone like bloody pawns in a chess game. This last time, too. I didn’t know a damn thing about Voldemort’s soul but <em> he </em> did. He’d long suspected, and it was seeing <em> Snape’s </em> memory that gave me that info. Months wasted looking for Horcruxes when I bloody was one.”</p><p>     Harry slumped back into the chair, momentarily overwhelmed. Why had he trusted the old wizard so implicitly? Even after knowing that he’s the reason that he was left at the Dursleys’ abusive,neglectful home all his life? It didn’t make a lick of sense, now that he was fully aware of just how many situations throughout his school years Dumbledore had manipulated. It wasn’t to say that the old man was necessarily <em> evil </em>, that was a designation better given to Voldemort and his ilk; but at the very least, the wizard was fairly self-serving. </p><p>     Yaba is quiet for a moment, then sighs. “Yes, well, unfortunately for you and my record, Albus Dumbledore is a Catalyst.”</p><p>     “A what?” This is the second time Yaba mentions him. “Can you explain? You mentioned that before. And I’m a-”</p><p>     “Destined Hero. Essentially, people fall into a bit of a hierarchy, I guess is the simplest way of putting it,” Yaba starts to explain. “Most beings are normal, living fairly normal lives, and they are what we call the Standard. They have no specific destinies, and their lives are shaped by a combination of uncontrollable factors such as where they are born, to whom, when, etcetera, and their choices. Grim Reapers-”</p><p>     “Someone like you?” Harry interrupts.</p><p>     Yaba shrugs. “Yes and no. To you lot on Earth, we’re all Grim Reapers, and it’s easiest to just go with that. In reality, it’s a bit more complicated. What you imagine, or imagined before dying, as a ‘Grim Reaper’ is really a Soul Reaper. They collect souls after a being dies and bring them to the In-Between. There, they weigh that being’s circumstances against their choices.</p><p>     “Catalysts are beings capable of affecting great change. Various villains and heroes throughout history were Catalysts. There is no predicing if they will be good or bad because they tend to live by a complicated set of beliefs. They may begin with good intentions, but be corrupted, or vice versa. Bunch of pain in the asses, to be honest.”</p><p>     “I’m assuming both Tom Riddle and Albus Dumbledore are Catalysts?” </p><p>     “Yes. As I said, pain in the asses. A Catalyst in turn causes the existence of a Destined Hero. Sometimes that Hero is just someone who acts like a positive influence in the Catalyst’s life, preventing them from going down a dark path. Sometimes, as in your case, they are opposing forces that cannot coexist and determine the fate of the world.”</p><p>     “Lucky me.” Harry grumbles. Granted, he can’t imagine a world in which he would somehow be a “positive influence” on Tom Riddle, thus preventing his becoming Voldemort. “Do Destined Heroes always get multiple tries?”</p><p>     Yaba coughs, clears their throat, and looks aside. “Uh, well, no. Usually, if a Hero dies without fulfilling their destiny, they are given a choice: a second chance or acceptance. It’s rare that a Hero didn’t at least <em> try </em> , and even in those cases, it’s often because they died before understanding what their destiny even <em> was </em>. If they accept, they are reunited temporarily with their loved ones in Heaven.”</p><p>     “Temporarily?”</p><p>     “Yes. You see, eventually, most beings in Heaven forget their lives. Once all of their loved ones have died, there is no longer an attachment to their lives. Heroes who have fulfilled their destiny and lived great lives, along with their loved ones who reach Heaven, are the exception, but that is because where they reside is like an upper level of Heaven, I guess you could call it. An eternal reward, essentially.”</p><p>     “So it’s worth it for a Hero who fails to not accept and instead ask for a second chance,” Harry concludes.</p><p>     “Yes. Although a second chance could be one of two things: attempt to fulfill your original destiny, or await the need for a new Hero and accept a new destiny. Namtar, the one you call Death, may decide that a failure cannot be reversed because of” Yaba pauses and then shrugs “reasons. And he’s the boss, so what he says goes.”</p><p>     “Why then have I had more than just a second chance?”</p><p>     “If you remember, I mentioned Soul Reapers, correct? Well Grims are the ones who handle Catalysts, since their lives tend to be more complicated than Standards. Grims who have worked for a <em> very </em> long time, with <em> countless </em> Catalysts with little error can be promoted to Demons.” Yaba indicates themselves. “Many of your kind used to call us ‘death gods’, but as religions changed, so too did our names. And because you all fear death so much, ‘demons’ became synonymous with evil beings, so we’ll sometimes go by the technically incorrect title of ‘Grim Reapers’. </p><p>     “Demons such as myself are basically directly under Death, and we get the mostly cushy job of just supervising a department of Grims and Standards, with the occasional Destined Hero. The record for most Destined Heroes without failures in a row is fourteen.” Yaba leans across their desk. “I am tied with Iku, and he currently doesn’t have a Destined Hero, so the new record <em> should be mine </em> , but you keep <em> failing </em>.” They throw themselves back into their chair, looking defeated.</p><p>     Harry blinks, unsure whether he should sympathize with his Grim Reaper, or Demon--whatever they were called--or not. On the one hand, they seemed to be another self-serving being using him as a pawn, but on the other, perhaps he could get himself another chance.</p><p>     “So if I’m understanding this correctly, rather than give me a choice, you just kept giving me more chances?” Harry clarifies.</p><p>     “Oh no, you kidding me? That would get me demoted all the way back to Soul Reaper if I took your choice away!” They look scandalized at the very idea. “I always ask, but no offence, you’re predictable. I knew you were never going to turn down the chance to go back and help your friends, especially ‘cause you always ask the same thing first. ‘What does my death mean for my friends?’ The answer,” Yaba rushes in, anticipating Harry’s need to know, “is that most of them die.”</p><p>     “Then of course I want to go back!”</p><p>     “You’re not understanding, I can’t keep doing this. Someone is bound to have noticed by now that I keep looping time to allow you to start over. I mean, it’s not hard to keep that under the radar; death is a busy business. But I’ve done it <em> three times </em>.”</p><p>     “So what’s one more?” Harry argues.</p><p>     “Easy for you to say. At this point, I’m not sure you <em> can </em> succeed.” Yaba taps the folder for emphasis. “Not that I necessarily think it’s your fault. Not entirely, anyway.”</p><p>     Harry frowns. “So, what? I just have to accept my fate? Doesn’t that mean you lose your streak? What happens then?”</p><p>     “Then I hope that since it’s my first failure in centuries, they don’t decide to audit your file. Iku’s gloating would be bad enough but if I get audited, forget the record and my streak, I might lose my position and be demoted back to working with <em> Catalysts </em>.”</p><p>     “They don’t audit the file if I succeed?” Harry asks, fairly certain he knows the answer.</p><p>     “No, they don’t.” Yaba confirms. They’re staring at each other, and Yaba shakes his head at Harry. “Look, I know what you’re trying to do; convince me to send you back <em> again </em>. But every time I break a rule, it’s one more thing to be punished for when you fail and I get audited. At least if I quit now, I might be able to talk myself out of the worst of it.”</p><p>     “The problem is, you keep sending me back to, what, six months to a year before my last death? And with no memories of those deaths, I am right back in the middle of my hero-worship of Dumbledore, and all my other relationships are pretty much established. Of <em> course </em> I’m going to keep failing!” Harry stands up, pacing about the room. “If you send me back farther, with my memories, I’m sure I can do it.”</p><p>     Yaba watches him pace. “I don’t have the ability to let you keep your memories. That’s a separate department altogether. Not sure that’s possible, really.”</p><p>     Harry looks over at his Grim Reaper, noting the thoughtful look on their face, and he’s suddenly standing by the desk, leaning forward. “Can you find out? If I could just <em> remember </em> , you could send me all the way back to the beginning. I mean, not <em> all </em> the way, but before I even start at Hogwarts. I could make sure to not repeat those deaths, <em> and </em>save other lives.” Like Cedric’s and Sirius’s.</p><p>     There’s a moment of contemplative silence, then suddenly Yaba calls out. “Opiel!” A shadow suddenly appears next to the desk, like a large curtain that has been balled up, and unfurls into a large dog-like creature. It’s dark eyes take Harry in before it turns its head over to look at Yaba. They speak words to it in some unknown language and just as quickly, the creature disappears. “I’m not making any promises, there’s <em> maybe </em> half a dozen under Death who might have the ability to do what you’re asking, and only <em> one </em> who might be willing to help.”</p><p>     Harry has barely nodded when suddenly the creature, Opiel, is back. This time, accompanied by another. Harry vaguely remembers a school lesson, back before Hogwarts, in which their history book had shown images of ancient Greek statues. The woman before them looked like one of those statues come alive, although rather than all white marble, she had skin of a light brown, almost golden complexion, wore a dress of pale pink, and the hair curling about her face and pulled back into a bun at her neck was almost as dark as his own.</p><p>     “You <em> summoned </em> me?” Harry suppressed the urge to shiver. The tone of her voice was cold, and it was clear she was offended. </p><p>     “Summoned? Lethe, I just asked Opiel to tell you I was looking for you,” Yaba explains. “I couldn’t very well take a Destined Hero to the Library, after all.”</p><p>     Lethe’s dark eyes move over Harry as she crosses her arms. “No,” is all she says after a moment, and Harry assumes she means Yaba could not have taken Harry to this Library. She looks away from him and back to the Grim Reaper. “What is your purpose in seeking me out?”</p><p>     “Ah, see, Harry here needs to go back to reattempt his destiny. I was hoping you could make it so that he recalls his past life?” Yaba gives her a hopeful look. “You know, as a favor to me.”</p><p>     “That I have not let it be known he has been thrice revived should be favor enough,” Lethe responds, and Yaba grimaces.</p><p>     “Ah, you noticed?” Their eyes widen. “Has anyone else?”</p><p>     “No.” She does not elaborate further, looking between them for a quiet moment. It isn’t until Harry shifts restlessly that she says, “My domain is oblivion and forgetfulness.”</p><p>     “Yes, that <em> is </em> your expertise,” Yaba agrees, “but it’s all memory. You could prevent forgetfulness too, couldn’t you?”</p><p>     “Assisting you would be worth more than what I owe.”</p><p>     Yaba nods their head in understanding. “So instead I’ll owe you in turn. Absolutely. So you’ll help?”</p><p>     She unfolds her arms and comes around the desk to stand next to Yaba, holding her hand out. They pass her Harry’s folder and she takes a moment to flip through the pages. “What were you thinking?”</p><p>     “Further than the previous times. Age eleven.”</p><p>     “He cannot maintain all his memories.”</p><p>     “Why not?” Harry asks.</p><p>     “Because.” She looks up to meet his eyes and states matter of factly, “You would go mad. Your mind is not intended to hold the memories of various lives, and it is especially not intended to remember its own death, much less multiple deaths.”</p><p>     “I’m fine right now, though.”</p><p>     “You’re dead,” Yaba reminds him. “So your mind and body aren’t constricted by the normal limitations.” Lethe nods her head in agreement, setting the folder down. Yaba turns to her. “What do you suggest then?”</p><p>     Her head tilts to the right slightly as she thinks, eyes still on Harry. “I would suggest he choose a few memories to take back with him. The ones he feels to be most pertinent to ensuring his success, and I can make it so that they come to him in dreams or are triggered by something.”</p><p>     “Then it will be more like an intuition or a glimpse into the future. Your mind will basically come up with a plausible reason for why you seem to just <em> know </em>those things,” Yaba explains.</p><p>     “Okay,” Harry agrees. He’ll take whatever he can get, before either of these beings changes their mind. “Let’s do it, then.”</p><p>     “Not so fast.” Yaba opens a drawer in their desk and pulls a paper out. They read over it and then pull out a long item that seems to be some type of writing utensil. It’s carved out of one piece and is all white, including the pointed tip, but when they press it to the paper it writes in blue, the words around it moving to make space. “This has to be the last time, and to make sure Lethe doesn’t get caught up in <em> my </em>trouble if you fail again, we’re doing this the right way and drawing up a contract. This is a big exception, so if you don’t succeed, your acceptance means you’ll have to work some time for the the Library of Memories to make up for essentially wasting Lethe’s time.”</p><p>     They finish writing then flip the page around so it’s facing Harry. With a tap, it’s all legible, and Harry pulls the chair forward so he can sit and read over it. The basics seems to be what they already discussed, that he’ll be sent back for a final chance to fulfill his destiny and that he understands that should he fail, he will be forced to accept with no additional chances. Furthermore, for using up the time of a Memory Librarian, he agrees to give back the equivalent amount of labor before being allowed to take his place in Heaven with the understanding that it may prevent him from meeting with his loved ones if he does not complete his time prior to the limitation of a being’s memories in Heaven. At the bottom is a place for his to affirm his understanding and sign, and then a second page that is blank except for an area for signatures at the bottom. </p><p>     “What is the second page for?”</p><p>     Lethe is the one who answers him. “That is where you shall write the memories you choose to keep. You can pick no more than a dozen, so choose wisely, and I shall review to ensure it can be done. If no changes are needed, we will both sign that we are in agreement with those memories.”</p><p>     A dozen memories. A dozen memories out of the collective seventeen years he had lived. Twenty-one, if they were counting the years he’d relived. Surely he could come up with moments that if he did differently, would change the course of his life? He had to, he was only getting one more shot at this. So he began writing, beginning with:</p>
<ol>
<li><b>The Dursleys will take your Hogwarts letter: <em>hide it</em>...</b></li>
</ol><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Title of the fic comes from the Emily Dickinson poem of the same name.</p><p>Chapter title is from the Queen song of the same name.</p><p>Maquetaurie Guayaba was the name of a Taino death god. Opiel was the demon guard dog protecting the entrance to the ancestral spirit realm.</p><p>Lethe, in Greek mythology, was the personification of oblivion and associated with (sometimes considered the goddess of) the river in Hades of that name that made its drinkers forget the past.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter One: Death Tore the Pages All Away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry's final chance begins...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am so so so sorry about the long delay! There was unexpected computer troubles, I lost the original chapter two (over 4k words suddenly GONE), and I never ever intended for three weeks to go by before the next update.</p><p>I'll post more details (and chapter updates as they happen) on writingmyselfout.tumblr.com, for anyone interested. That's also where I'll make note of anything that might be happening with updates in the future.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>HARRY Potter awakes to the sound of heavy footsteps pounding down the stairs, alerting him to the fact that his cousin Dudley was awake. Soon, either his Aunt Petunia or his Uncle Vernon would note that he had not yet gotten up and call for him. Unless they very specifically didn’t want to see him, he wasn’t allowed to linger in bed late into the day unlike his cousin. Still, he finds himself not quite ready to get up as he tried to remember what he’d been dreaming of just moments ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     He has this lingering sense of déjà vu, but can’t quite place why, and a niggling feeling in the back of his mind makes him think that whatever he’d been dreaming of was important. Try as he might, though, he just can’t recapture any of it. Not a word or image to even  hint at what it might have been. Finally, after a few minutes, he heaves a sigh, opens his eyes, and sits up in bed, careful not to hit his head on one of the shelves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Not for the first time, he wonders what the Dursleys will do when he becomes too big to fit in the bed wedged into the cupboard. A part of him hopes it will force them to give him the spare second bedroom upstairs, but another worries and thinks it more likely that he will have to forever fit himself into this tiny little space. It might be best then for him to stay rather small as he gets older.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Get up, boy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     There it is, Uncle Vernon realizing he’s still in bed. Without further hesitation, he gets his glasses on and gets up out of bed. His nose wrinkles as he opens his door and the faint whiff of whatever is happening in the kitchen. It’s not until he’s finished washing up and goes into the kitchen that he finds out that the smell is coming from his soon-to-be new Stonewall High uniform. Hopefully, his looking like he was dressed in giant flabs of elephant skin wouldn’t keep him from enjoying his Dudley-free school life, but somehow he doubts it’ll do much in the way of keeping him from becoming the target for other bullies. At least with bullies unrelated to him, he’ll only have to deal with them at school, and if he has to fight back, he’s less likely to get in trouble the way he would if he tried to ever hit Dudley. He can already imagine the amount of trouble that even just thinking about hitting his cousin back would result in, even if it is in self-defense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     There is suddenly the sound of the mail slot opening as the post arrives, and without looking up from his newspaper, Uncle Vernon says, “Dudley, go get the mail.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Unsurprisingly, his cousin whines and Harry instead is the one made to get it. His inner grumbling about his cousin’s laziness is halted as he spots his name in the pile, written in fancy script on an envelope between what is likely a bill and a postcard from Vernon’s nightmare of a sister, Aunt Marge. The green ink on the thick yellow paper--unlike any he’s seen before--sparks that same déjà vu feeling from before, only this time he does remember something. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>     The Dursleys will take this letter; hide it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     It’s as if the words are spoken in his ear, and he doesn’t quite know where the thought comes from. He’s certain as soon as he thinks it, however, that it’s right. Who hasn’t the faintest idea of who might be writing him, but whoever it may be, he can’t imagine his aunt or uncle allowing him to know the contents, regardless of whether it was meant for him or not. They hadn’t asked him about the school he wanted to go to, he was never allowed to go anywhere even on the rare occasions over the years that he’d been invited by other students or their parents to partake in birthday parties or outings, and aside from his sometimes-babysitter Mrs. Figg and the other kids or adults he encountered at school, he was virtually kept isolated from strangers otherwise. No, it is best he keep this to himself, at least until he’s gotten a chance to read what it says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     With no hesitation, he slides the letter under the doormat, checking to make sure that stepping on the mat makes no sound, before quickly heading to the kitchen. He’d considered hiding it in his pants, but his clothes are so loose and baggy, he can’t be sure the letter would have stayed unnoticed. Instead, he hopes by hiding it under the mat, he can get to it later when no one is paying him any attention. It takes every ounce of patience he has to sit through breakfast, listening to Uncle Vernon tell Petunia about Marge’s postcard, and for them to discuss her vacation and whether or not they should look into a trip as well. He’s careful to not let his eyes stray out of the room or seem impatient, but he nearly groans when he’s ordered to clean the kitchen up while Petunia goes to hang her horridly home-dyed uniform for him in the yard to dry. His uncle and Dudley go to watch TV, their version of father-son bonding time, as Uncle Vernon always took additional days off throughout the summer to spend more time with Dudley.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     He had hoped to immediately grab the letter to read upon finishing the dishes, but as soon as he’s done, he’s roped into helping in the garden. His aunt insists on keeping the garden as immaculate as possible, but it’s Harry who does most of the work to maintain it, and during the summer it meant slaving away at it in the middle of the hot afternoons. Normally, he only minds the heat, but is otherwise fine with it as it means he’s out of sight when Dudley’s friends arrive and his cousin is unlikely to interrupt him mid-chore. Today, however, his mind strays to the letter waiting to be read. All he wants is to get a few moments alone to read it, sate his curiosity, and decide if it’s worth telling his family about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Of course, that means today is a day he is kept busy non-stop. After washing up, he’s sent upstairs to wash up because his aunt can’t stand the smell of him, and then told to clean the bathroom while he’s up there. Nevermind that he missed lunch while out in the garden. He’s lucky she remembered to set out a glass of water for him. When he’s done, he’s set to mind the dinner Aunt Petunia began cooking, as the phone rings and she instead sits gossipping on the phone. Then he’s made to clean up afterwards again, only for his aunt to call for him to make some tea to bring in to them before he’s even finished. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     He comes in just as the show they’re watching cuts to a commercial break. Shots of a family in a circular raft on water, shouting and laughing as they go down a river to some upbeat music that then cuts to a newly open ride called the Dive Bomber, and an announcer enthusiastically encouraging all and sundry come and check it out with the kids, assuring great family memories were to be made. It is barely over before Dudley is on his feet, demanding his parents take him. Harry appreciates the excited shouts, sure that his aunt and uncle will pay him little to no mind as they attempt to placate their spoiled son.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Duddey-kins,” Aunt Petunia starts. “Ilkeston is quite far, my darling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Near three hours,” Uncle Vernon agrees. “Not sure it would be worth the money.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Dudley stomps his foot and Harry slowly moves back to leave the room. “I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>care</span>
  </em>
  <span>! We have to go! I want to!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Petunia is the first to cave, as she always is, and turns to Vernon. “We could rent a room, do a short weekend trip?” She stands up to put an arm around Dudley, the both of them giving Vernon their own pleading looks. “A late birthday gift, to make up for that </span>
  <em>
    <span>horrid</span>
  </em>
  <span> trip to the zoo.” Harry freezes where he’s standing just inside the doorway at the mention of the zoo trip as eyes flicker briefly in his direction. He shifts from one foot to the other, trying to seem semi-interested in the conversation if only to not arouse suspicion, but he’s frankly more interested in the letter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I suppose a small trip would be nice,” Vernon says slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     He may as well have said yes, and they all know it. Dudley breaks out into a grin, going on and on about how jealous his friends will be. Then he stops, throws a malicious grin in Harry’s direction, and suddenly adds, “But </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> can’t come! He’ll ruin it like he did the zoo!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     This time, Vernon half turns on the couch to look at Harry, then back to his wife. “Mrs. Figgs is better, right? See if she can take the boy for a few days in a week or two--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “A </span>
  <em>
    <span>week</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Dudley is indignant. “It’s Wednesday, why not this weekend? Let’s go this weekend!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Aunt Petunia places a calming hand on his shoulder. “I’ll call tomorrow, sweetums, and we’ll see what she says. If she can take Harry, you can invite Piers to come with us.” She is careful not to specify that it might not be that weekend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     It does the trick, and soon their attention is back on the television. Harry slips out of the room, grabs the letter from under the mat, and then makes his way to the cupboard. Finally, he can see what this is about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The light in his cupboard is dim, but he can still make out his name on the front in the fanciest script he can ever recall seeing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mr. H. Potter</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Cupboard Under the Stairs</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>4, Privet Drive</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Little Whinging</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Surrey</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     He only now notices the rest of the address and frowns. How do they know where he sleeps? He flips it over and runs a finger over the wax seal, feeling the ridges of its design and holding it up closer to his face to study the seal, only just making out that there are four animals surrounding a capital letter ‘H’. The snake and lion are easy enough to make out, but he can’t quite make out the last two. A bird and a fox, perhaps? He’ll have to try and see it in better lighting later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Carefully, he picks at the seal with a nail until he can get a finger under, trying to keep it as intact as possible. There’s a novelty to getting his first ever letter, addressed to him personally. Once he gets the seal off, he opens it, smoothing it out and moving the letter closer to his face to better making it all out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HOGWARTS SCHOOL </span>
  <em>
    <span>of</span>
  </em>
  <span> WITCHCRAFT </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> WIZARDRY</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)</span>
</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>Dear Mr. Potter,</span>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <span>We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. </span>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <span>Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>Yours Sincerely,</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>
      
    </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Minerva McGonagall</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Deputy Headmistress</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>
  <span>     Harry blinks at the letter in disbelief, not quite believing what he’s reading. If it weren’t for the fact that he knows how much they despise magic and such, he might think this was an elaborate prank his aunt and uncle were playing on him. It could still be a prank, he thinks, but by who and for what purpose? Dudley wasn’t smart enough to pull something like this off, and his friends wouldn’t think to do something like this either. He also doubted that his cousin could’ve managed to not give something away had he been keeping a prank secret. No, this was either someone else’s doing entirely or the thing was real. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     That previous feeling of déjà vu hits him again, though he can’t quite place what about the letter is causing it. He flips to the second page, curiosity momentarily overtaking his confusion and doubt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>HOGWARTS SCHOOL </span>
  <em>
    <span>of</span>
  </em>
  <span> WITCHCRAFT </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>WIZARDRY</span>
</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote><p>
    <span>UNIFORM</span>
  </p><p>
    <span>First-year students will require:</span>
  </p>
<ol>
<li><span> Three sets of plain work robes (black)</span></li>
<li><span> One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear</span></li>
<li><span> One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)</span></li>
<li><span> One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)</span></li>
</ol><p>
    <span>Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags.</span>
  </p><p> </p><p>
    <span>COURSE BOOKS</span>
  </p><p>
    <span>All students should have a copy of each of the following:</span>
  </p><p>
    <em>
      <span>The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) </span>
    </em>
    <span>by Miranda Goshawk</span>
  </p><p>
    <em>
      <span>A History of Magic</span>
    </em>
    <span> by Bathilda Bagshot</span>
  </p><p>
    <em>
      <span>Magical Theory</span>
    </em>
    <span> by Adalbert Waffling</span>
  </p><p>
    <em>
      <span>A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration</span>
    </em>
    <span> by Emeric Switch</span>
  </p><p>
    <em>
      <span>One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi</span>
    </em>
    <span> by Phyllida Spore</span>
  </p><p>
    <em>
      <span>Magical Drafts and Potions</span>
    </em>
    <span> by Arsenius Jigger</span>
  </p><p>
    <em>
      <span>Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them </span>
    </em>
    <span>by Newt Scamander</span>
  </p><p>
    <em>
      <span>The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection</span>
    </em>
    <span> by Quentin Trimble</span>
  </p><p> </p><p>
    <span>OTHER EQUIPMENT</span>
  </p><p>
    <span>1 wand</span>
  </p><p>
    <span>1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)</span>
  </p><p>
    <span>1 set glass or crystal phials</span>
  </p><p>
    <span>1 telescope</span>
  </p><p>
    <span>1 set brass scales</span>
  </p><p> </p><p>
    <span>Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.</span>
  </p><p> </p><p>
    <span>PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.</span>
  </p><p> </p><p>
    <span>Yours sincerely,</span>
  </p><p>
    <span>
      
    </span>
  </p><p>
    <span>Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus</span>
  </p><p>
    <span>Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions</span>
  </p></blockquote><p> </p><p>
  <span>     Very carefully, he folds the letter back up, then folds it even smaller to hide it under his pillow. His mind is racing, trying to process it all. If this is a joke, it’s a very thorough one. It looks so official, though, that it’s hard to think who would go through this level of effort to fool him. And to what end? He can’t figure that out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     If it’s real, though, he’s not sure that’s any better. A school for witchcraft and wizardry, accepting </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> as a student? He remembers talking to the snake at the zoo on Dudley’s birthday, and the glass disappearing, plus all the other weird, unexplainable things that had happened to him before. In light of this letter, it all suddenly seemed to make much more sense. But how? Perhaps from his parents? It might explain why his aunt and uncle refused to talk about them or the accident that killed them, considering how much they despised all talk of magic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     He couldn’t imagine, then, that they would be happy about this letter, much less at the thought of him even attending. No amount of begging on his part has ever worked to get them to give him anything he’s ever wanted, and somehow he doubts this will play out any differently. But without their approval, how can he hope to afford even half the things on this list? Where would he even buy it all even if he could somehow convince the Dursleys to not just let him attend this mysterious school, but also part with enough money to buy him his supplies?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The questions plague his thoughts, keeping him awake long after the rest of the house has turned in, and he’s sure they haunt his dreams for he wakes up still thinking of the letter. It keeps his mind occupied and distracted from all else, earning him a few shouts when he fails to do as he’s told all morning, until finally Vernon takes Dudley’s smelting stick and hits Harry with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     He yelps in surprise, instinctively moving away as he rubs at his shoulder. Uncle Vernon is holding the stick out, arm almost fully extended, and the thinks the shoulder blow might have been a hit to the head had he been slightly closer. He wonders automatically if Hogwarts has dorms. They probably do, right? Meaning he could live most of the year away from the constant threat of verbal and physical abuse, and maybe that was worth trying to make the impossible possible after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Are you listening, boy?” Vernon demands. Harry mutters an apology. “Pack a bag. We’re dropping you off in the morning to Mrs. Figg’s for the weekend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Harry nods his head, wondering if he can use the time away from the Dursleys to his advantage. If he can’t figure out a way to make this school work without telling them, he can at least figure out how to bring it up once their trip is done so that they might be inclined to let him go. After all, the letter had clearly stated a response was required by 31 July, his birthday, so he only had six days left to work something out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>WHEN they drop him off at Mrs. Figg’s house, it’s all Harry can do to hide the fact that’s actually quite glad to not be going on this mini-vacation with his family. Especially as any sign that he was happy while they were all grumpy would likely not go over well. Dudley had made his displeasure at having to wake up early on a vacation day quite plain, and no amount of pointing out that it was for the trip </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’d </span>
  </em>
  <span>wanted was going to change that. But Vernon was also not much of a morning person, and his own patience had worn to the point that he’d threatened to cancel the trip when Dudley had finally complained one too many times. Which resulted in a minor tantrum, until Petunia promised him all sorts of treats would be bought at the park that they couldn’t get at the store. She’d been pinching the bridge of her nose the way she did when she had a headache, so she was ready to promise just about anything to get some quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     They were going to be in for a long trip, Harry thinks. They still had to pick up Piers, and then drive three hours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Come on then, Harry,” Mrs. Figg tells him after they’ve watched the Dursleys drive off. “You have breakfast? ‘S quite early, I imagine you might have been too tired for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Breakfast would be nice,” he agrees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Really, he wants to put the plan he thought up into action. He had slipped the letter into his shoe, just in case Petunia wanted to check his bag before they left this morning. All night, he had pondered over his dilemma and perhaps actually reached a solution. Plenty of the more expensive schools offered scholarships, so perhaps he could reach out to the headmistress and ask about it. Having never heard of the school, he isn’t sure what requirements for scholarships they might have, but he figures asking won’t hurt. Plus, at least he can make his wanting to attend clear, so maybe if he can’t get his aunt and uncle to agree by the deadline, he might buy himself some extra time to convince them. He really wishes he’d received the letter more than a week before they needed his response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     So he plans to write to them. Coming to Mrs. Figgs would help, as she would likely agree to let him use some pen and paper of hers to write it, and if he said it was for a school thing, maybe she wouldn’t bring it up to the Dursleys, figuring it was something they already knew about. At the very least, she’s not likely to stop him from writing the letter. Perhaps she might actually help him send it out, considering the one he’d received has no return address, and so he’s not sure how to actually get his letter to the school. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     After breakfast, she shows him to her guest room so he can put his things away. She’s barely left him when he pulls the letter from his shoe and then follows her back out into the living room, where she immediately sits down, sets her crutches aside, and props a leg up before reaching for some knitting next to her couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Mrs. Figg,” Harry starts. “Could I get some pen and paper? I needed to write something for school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Oh? Homework already?” She looks up at him, smiling. “There’s some stationary at the desk over there. Help yourself. I hadn’t asked, where are you going to school after summer?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Harry goes over to the desk, hesitating for a moment before he says, “Well, that depends.” He sits down at the desk, half turning to look at her. “I was supposed to go to Stonewall High, but I was accepted somewhere else I want to go to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Mrs. Figg frowns, hands stilling as she looks up. “Stonewall, huh?” At his nod, she goes back to knitting as she asks, “But there’s another school?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Yes, maybe. I, uh, don’t know if I’ll be allowed to go,” he says, trying to decide how much to say. “Maybe my aunt and uncle might let me go if I can get a scholarship to attend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “So you’re writing to the school?” At his affirmative, Mrs. Figg nods her approval. “Good. Just let them know and I’m sure that he’ll--</span>
  <em>
    <span>they’ll</span>
  </em>
  <span> help you attend.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I hope so,” Harry admits. “I’m not sure where to send it, though. There’s not an address on the envelope for Hogwarts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     She stops knitting again and gives him a smile. “You just write that letter, dear. When you’re done, I’ll take care of sending it out and you can try and get some more sleep, okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Something about the certainty with which she says she’ll send it out has him agreeing to her plan. He pulls out a pen and some of the stationary located in the desk’s middle drawer, then stares at the blank page for a moment before pulling out the original letter and opening it. He pauses in his re-reading to frown at the headmaster’s name, which immediately gives him that same niggling déjà vu feeling once more, and then moves on. He decides he’ll write back to the one who signed this first page, the deputy headmistress, and begins.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Dear Mrs. McGonagall,</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>
  <span>     He hopes it’s ‘Mrs.’, but wonders if he shouldn’t address it to her title? Too late, he’s already written the beginning, so he just continues.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>My name is Harry Potter, and I just received the letter from your schools, Hogwart. It is very nice of you all to accept me to the school, although I have never heard of the school and never applied. It seems like it would be an interesting school to go to, but I am not sure my family can afford to send me there. Does Hogwarts offer scolarships? If so, could you tell me what I might do to get one?</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>If not, then I don’t think I will be able to go there. Maybe if my aunt and uncle say yes, but probably not if it will cost a lot. Since you needed an answer by 31 July though, I wanted to send this letter just in case.</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>
  <span>     He taps the pen against his chin in thought, rereading his letter. He notes a few mistakes, but decides to leave them as opposed to scratching them out. He considers asking if he can use a different page, but he doesn’t want to push his luck on the older woman’s generosity when he still needs her to send the letter out for him. Harry thinks he should just keep it short, then remembers that letters are supposed to have return addresses and he frowns again.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Should he address it the way they sent it to him? It shouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> where exactly he sleeps, at least he doesn’t remember anyone mentioning that in class, but he worries if he doesn’t give them the same address, they’ll think maybe he’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>different</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry Potter. He decides then that he’ll put the full address as they put it </span>
  <em>
    <span>inside</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but keep the cupboard part off the letter on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>outside</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>You can write back to the same address where I got the first letter:</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Harry Potter</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Cupboard Under the Stairs</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>4, Privet Drive</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Little Whinging</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Surrey</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Hope to hear from you soon.</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>Harry Potter</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>
  <span>     He hasn’t yet mastered writing his name in cursive, so he doesn’t sign it, only writes his name. His other mistakes are embarrassing enough; he doesn’t want to make the letter look worse than it already does. Instead, he folds it carefully, find an envelope in one of the desk drawers, and slips the letter inside. He licks it closed, then stares at the front for a moment. Putting the school’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>full</span>
  </em>
  <span> name would probably be best, but he worries that Mrs. Figg will see it and change her mind. Plus, shouldn’t he address it to the deputy headmistress, to make sure she gets it? Finally, he decides he may as well write both her name and the school’s full name, just in case there happens to be more than one place called ‘Hogwarts’, and scribbles it across the front directly in the middle. On the back, he puts his return address without the cupboard line. Then he stands up and walks over to Mrs. Figgs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Finished, then?” she asks, smiling at him as she lays her knitting on her lap. She holds a hand out and he passes the envelope over after only a moment’s hesitation. “I’ll get this out. Why don’t you go get some sleep? I’ll wake you for lunch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     She glances at the envelope, but doesn’t bat an eye or ask any questions, and Harry finds himself relaxing. If she’s not saying anything about the name, maybe it’s not as weird as he thinks? Or maybe she’s more open minded than  his family. Regardless, he isn’t as anxious anymore and he agrees that a nap would be nice. He can only hope now that the school gets his letter and can help him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A MERE hour later, the sound of the heels of a pair of well worn boots echo off the stone walls of the hallway their wearer is hurrying down. Minerva McGonagall, Professor of Transfiguration, Gryffindor Head of House, and Deputy Headmistress does not like to be caught by surprise, especially where her students are concerned, and that one had done so before ever setting foot inside the school did not bode well for the coming school year. With a letter written on flimsy Muggle paper in hand, she heads for the office of a certain wizard who has some questions to answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     In a few minutes, she is barging into his office with barely a knock. “Albus Dumbledore, you have some explaining to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Two men look over at her as she storms in. Severus Snape half turns, an eyebrow raised at her tone. It’s well known that she and the headmaster are close friends, but the woman is very careful about being respectful even when she disagrees with a decision so long as there are students or colleagues around. Yet here she is, speaking to the older man as if he’s one of her wayward students.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     For his part, Albus only raises a single eyebrow, an amused smile on his face. “Why, Minerva, whatever is the matter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “This, Albus. This letter I just received, and you’ll never guess who from.” She waves the offending letter in the air. “Harry Potter. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry Potter. How has he never heard of Hogwarts? And asking about a </span>
  <em>
    <span>scholarship</span>
  </em>
  <span>! Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, how does the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Boy Who Lived</span>
  </em>
  <span> not know about this school?” She slams the letter down on his desk, finger pointed down at it as she adds, “And look at the address. I checked the outgoing letters, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> is how his letter was addressed. Care to explain that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Albus looks down at the letter, and although he is quiet as he skims it, the amused smile is no longer on his face. He’s done in a moment, looking back up at the angry face of his deputy headmistress. Snape moves forward, holding a hand out to look at the letter for himself. He knew the boy would be among the incoming students, but it hadn’t occurred to him the boy might arrive completely ignorant of the world he would be entering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “It appears that my instructions to inform Harry of his heritage have gone unheeded.” His calm demeanor only serves to further annoy McGonagall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I told you I didn’t like the idea of leaving him there,” she reminds him. “Horrid, </span>
  <em>
    <span>horrid</span>
  </em>
  <span> Muggles. I couldn’t imagine a more unlikely sister to Lily Evans--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “You left the boy with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Petunia</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Snape did look up now, surprise evident on his face as he stared at the headmaster. It had never occurred to him to ask where the boy had been placed. He hadn’t cared, to be quite honest, but that had been because he never imagined Dumbledore putting the hero of the wizarding world with someone who had so openly despised all things magic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Albus frowns. “It is the safest place for him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “They have him in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>cupboard</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Albus! I hardly think that’s the </span>
  <em>
    <span>safest</span>
  </em>
  <span> place for him.” Unbidden, Snape recalls some of the cruel things Petunia had called her sister, someone she had once grown up with and been close to, and tries to imagine her with Lily’s son. Somehow, he can’t see her being any kinder to the boy. “Is this the first you’re hearing of this?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Didn’t you go to see him, ever? In these last ten years?” McGonagall’s question draws Snape’s attention to the headmaster, who stands up and looks over at neither of them as he walks over to his phoenix, who sits on his perch in a corner watching them all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I have been too busy these past ten years,” he admits, “to go see the boy. Plus, it would have only served to confuse him. I thought it best he grew up as normally as possible before he could enter into a world where his fame will follow him around forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     McGonagall scoffs. “Normal? He isn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Albus, and now he is completely unprepared for joining the world he </span>
  <em>
    <span>belongs</span>
  </em>
  <span> in.” Snape finds himself silently agreeing, imagining all the things the boy won’t know the first thing about. “What’s more, what’s ‘normal’ about being shoved into a cupboard? I don’t even want to think of what else he may have endured there,” she adds, voice low as she shakes her head, clearly imagining what else people who put a barely 11-year old boy to sleep in a cupboard might be capable of doing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     She shakes her head, then asks, “Is Gringotts in possession of the Potter vault key? A scholarship, as if the son of James Henry Potter and only heir to the Potter estate would need one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I am in possession of that key,” Dumbledore informs her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     McGonagall frowns. “I will need that, then. I will have to go see Mr. Potter this week about his letter, and I imagine he’ll need to be taken to Diagon Alley. Really, if I had known what his situation was like, I’d have included him on my list of visits along with the Muggle-born students.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “There’s no need, McGonagall, for you to go out of your way. Hagrid was going to handle some school business at Diagon later this week. He can take the boy.” Dumbledore was still facing the phoenix as he spoke, and behind him McGonagall and Snape shared a look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “If I may, sir,” Snape spoke up, although he did not wait before continuing. “Sending Hagrid to speak with Petunia Evans will hardly help the situation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Dursley,” McGonagall corrected. “Her married name is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dursley</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And I insist on going. The boy wrote to me, and after leaving him there all those years ago, I would feel much better seeing how he’s fared firsthand.” There was a pause, then she added, “Perhaps you should come with me, Severus? Since you know Lily’s sister.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     A sneer crossed his face, “Knew. I knew her sister. We were hardly friends.” Frankly, he had hated her from the very beginning, and it seemed unlikely time had changed the girl he’d hated into anything other than a woman he would hate as much, if not more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “All the same, I never met Lily’s sister as she was out when I went to go speak to the Evans’ when she was accepted. A familiar face might help persuade her that Mr. Potter </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> be coming to Hogwarts. Besides, you knew the boy’s mother and can tell him about her time here.” She knowingly said nothing of telling him about his father.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Nevertheless, Snape’s immediate instinct was to deny the request. He wanted nothing to do with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Potter’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> son beyond what was required of him as a professor at the school. Dumbledore looked back then with a knowing look, as if he anticipated the man’s refusal, which only served to rouse the Potions master’s ire. Instead of the no he had been fully prepared, he found himself agreeing to the scheme. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     They had things they each had to take care of the next couple of days, but it was decided that come Wednesday, they would venture to Surrey together to speak with Harry Potter.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter title comes from a Kenny Chesney song.</p><p>Again, feel free to visit writingmyselfout.tumblr.com to see when updates go up. It's very specifically my fanfic/writing blog, so all my silly personal crap is kept off of it, so only my fanfic or writing related reblogs will go up there. Otherwise, may I suggest bookmarking? </p><p>I'll try to get another update posted this weekend, as a "sorry this one took so long", but overall, going to aim for a chapter a week going forward if life cooperates.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Two: Wind That's Carrying A Change</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry receives magical visitors.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am floored by just how many comments and kudos I got in such a short period of time after the last chapter. It was such a pleasant, unexpected surprise, so as a thank you I really wanted to post the next chapter as quickly as possible. I did say I'd aim for Sunday if possible, so here we are. (It's still Sunday on the west coast, so I'm counting it despite the 1 Mar date on the update, lol).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>MORNING on Harry Potter’s eleventh birthday dawns with the boy in question wide awake, having barely been able to sleep for the excitement coursing through him. Mrs. Figg had assured him Friday that she had sent his letter out while he napped, then said no more. He had been left to worry on his own whether it would be received in time, and anxious about what the response to it might be. He was afraid to hope he could attend this mysterious school, to hope for something better than what he’d come to know in his short life. So he had received the news delivered to him Saturday morning that not only had the school’s deputy headmistress received his letter already, but that she would be coming to see him <em> on his birthday </em> with a great deal of surprise. </p><p> </p><p>     He was a ball of anticipation the rest of the weekend, incapable of sitting still for long. Time seemed to crawl by, to the point that he was actually happy to be picked up by the Dursleys come Sunday afternoon, as it meant the weekend was basically over, and The Day, as he’d come to think of it, was that much closer. No amount of bullying or teasing from Dudley and Piers could bother him Sunday, no amount of chores heaped on him Monday, and certainly no amount of yelling from his aunt and uncle come Tuesday, could dampen his spirits. He had tried, in vain, to go to bed early Tuesday night in the hopes that if he just went to sleep, time would fly by and he would wake up to find his visitor waiting for him, but it was no use. If he dozed, it was for minutes at a time, for he’d suddenly be wide awake and alert, desperately wishing the sun would just hurry up and rise already.</p><p> </p><p>     It’s how his family comes to wake up to the smell of breakfast. Harry had needed something to occupy his time, and maybe if they’re in a good mood when his guest arrives, they’ll be less likely to be rude. In truth, Harry doesn’t believe that, but he needs something to do anyway. </p><p> </p><p>     It really only serves to make Vernon suspicious, although he only grumbles ‘the boy is up to something’  before shoveling food onto his plate. When breakfast has been consumed, Harry waits to be told to clean up to avoid further speculation.  </p><p> </p><p>     He’s not surprised that no one remembers his birthday or thinks to give him anything. His birthdays were as unlike Dudley’s as was possible; just another day, barely worth noting, and certainly not cause for celebration. Before the Hogwarts letter, he’d hoped for something more, like he did every year. A candy bar would be an improvement to some of the terrible gifts of previous years, when they’d bothered to give him anything at all. This year, all he wants is the okay to go to this school, even if it means that they never again remember much less give him anything for said birthday.</p><p> </p><p>     Once the dishes are clean, Harry sits in the living room, keeping an eye on the window as best he can without appearing as if he’s watching for something. His fidgeting doesn’t go unnoticed, though, and Vernon snaps at him eventually to stay still or get out of his sight. Harry wishes he’d thought to ask Mrs. Figg what <em> time </em> Mrs. McGonagall was due to come, because it’s barely ten in the morning and he doesn’t think he can do this for hours longer. He’s sure he’ll lose his mind first.</p><p> </p><p>It’s with great relief that he hears the doorbell ring precisely as the living room clock strikes eleven.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll get it!” Harry announces, jumping up to his feet. </p><p> </p><p>     If he were thinking straight, he’d have waited for them to tell him to go open it, as they usually did anyway, but his excitement gets the better of him. As a result, Vernon stands up and grabs him, practically throwing him back onto the couch.</p><p> </p><p>     “Stay put, boy,” Vernon orders him. “You’ve been acting strange all morning. I’ll see who it is.” Then he storms out of the living room.</p><p> </p><p>     His reaction has drawn both Petunia’s and Dudley’s attention from the television, with the other boy looking from his father over to Harry. The cousins share a brief look and then they are both on their feet scrambling for the hallway. It isn’t a fair race, never is with Dudley, and Harry gets shoved into the doorframe  by his larger cousin, practically collapsing into the hall just as the door is opened.</p><p> </p><p>     “Whatever you’re selling, we are not interested,” Vernon announces as he opens the door. His large body blocks Harry’s view so he can’t tell who is on the other side. “Soliciting isn’t allowed in this neighborhood, I’ll have you know.” Harry doesn’t know if he hopes his wait is over, and this is indeed the woman he’d written to, or if he rather hopes it’s not to avoid the embarrassment. His uncle hadn’t so much as offered a ‘good day’ before offending their visitors.<br/><br/></p><p>     In response to this rather rude declaration, an older woman’s crisp Scottish accent states, “Vernon Dursley, I presume? If you would be so kind as to let us in, we have come regarding Mr. Harry Potter.”</p><p> </p><p>     “For Harry?” Vernon half turns as he yells out. “Boy! What did you do now?” He spots Harry and Dudley behind him, and his eyes narrow as he opens his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>     What he might have said next goes unheard, because there’s suddenly a gasp of surprise from Petunia, who had followed the boys out of the room to sate her own curiosity. Harry looks at her but her eyes are focused on the doorway where just beyond Uncle Vernon stands a man in a business suit, his long, greasy black hair brushing his shoulders, and an older woman dressed in an old fashioned button down shirt and skirt. </p><p> </p><p>     “You!” Petunia’s voice is a strangled sound, but Harry recognizes that tone of disgust, although there’s some definite surprise in there as well. </p><p> </p><p>     The man does not seem as surprised. “Petunia.”</p><p> </p><p>     “I don’t know who you are, but I think you should leave now,” Vernon announces after this brief exchange, taking a cue from his wife’s reaction that these are people he does not want around.</p><p> </p><p>     “Not until we have discussed Harry’s acceptance to Hogwarts.”</p><p> </p><p>     “Hog-what?” Dudley pipes up, just as Aunt Petunia lets out a small shout.</p><p> </p><p>     “Absolutely <em> not </em>!” Vernon roars. Harry jumps involuntarily, caught completely by surprise by the vehemence with which his uncle shouts, and only used to having that level of anger directed at himself.</p><p> </p><p>     Petunia rushes over to him, ever cognizant of what the gossips might say, and reminds him, “Vernon, the neighbors-”</p><p> </p><p>     “I’ll not have this nonsense in my home,” he announces, ignoring his wife as he then goes to close the door. </p><p> </p><p>     But suddenly it flies out of his hand and is flung wide open. He and Petunia jump back and away as it does. The man standing outside holds a stick in his hand that Harry was sure he didn’t have a moment ago, and he watches him slip it into his suit jacket as he strides in. Petunia and Vernon practically flatten themselves against the wall to get away from him, and the older woman comes in calmly, unperturbed, closing the door softly behind her.</p><p> </p><p>     The two pause at seeing Dudley and Harry. Their eyes flicker over the larger boy, then move onto Harry. He tries not to fidget as they look him over, acutely aware of the second hand clothes he’s wearing that are obviously a few sizes too big. He isn’t sure what to make of their frowns, wondering if they disapprove of what they see and deciding he has to break the silence or he’ll go mad.</p><p> </p><p>     “H-Hullo,” he manages to get out. He hopes his voice doesn’t sound as shaky to them as it does to his own ears.</p><p> </p><p>     The older woman smiles at him reassuringly suddenly, reminding Harry of a handful of old teachers whom he’d actually liked over the years. “Mr. Potter. I’m very glad to meet you. I’m Professor McGonagall, and this here is Professor Snape.” She motions to the man who continues to frown at Harry. “I must thank you for writing to me, for I’m afraid we had made some assumptions regarding how much you might already know about Hogwarts.”</p><p> </p><p>     The school’s name suddenly seems to stir his aunt and uncle, as Petunia suddenly steps forward. “Now, see here, he will <em> not </em> be going to that school of-of-of <em> freaks </em>.” Professor Snape’s eyes narrow as he turns to look at her, and Harry watches his aunt visibly shrink away from him. “We-”</p><p> </p><p>     “You what?” he asks. “Think you’ll stop <em> Lily’s </em> son from going to Hogwarts, <em> Tuney </em>?” He looks back at Harry, then down the hall as if he is looking for something. His eyes narrow and he moves past the boys.</p><p> </p><p>     “Severus, what are-” Professor McGonagall stops mid-sentence as Snape reaches the stairs and walks just past them, stopping at Harry’s cupboard. He swings the door open, takes a moment, and then looks past them all to meet Petunia’s gaze. </p><p> </p><p>     Petunia looks away, her face red as Snape practically slams the cupboard door shut. “She would be ashamed of you.” The words are low, but they carry down the hall, and Harry’s wide eyes move between this man and his aunt, whose entire face and neck are covered in red splotches.</p><p> </p><p>     “Mr. Potter.” Harry looks back at the deputy headmistress, who motions towards the living room area. “Let’s have a seat. I’m sure you have many questions.”</p><p> </p><p>     Harry nods, looks back at the other adults for a quick moment, then follows after the older woman. Professor Snape is only a few steps behind him. McGonagall motions for Harry to sit with her on the couch, and he sits so he’s facing her. Snape moves past them to stand behind Harry, just next to the arm of the couch, facing the doorway where the Dursleys have collected, seeming unsure of whether they should enter the room or not.</p><p> </p><p>     “Now Mr. Potter. Harry. You wrote in your letter to me that you had not heard of Hogwarts.” Harry nods his head and McGonagall continues, “What do you know of your parents?”</p><p> </p><p>     Harry looks from her, to the Dursleys, then over his shoulder at Snape before he answers. “Not much?” he admits, then rushes to add, “I mean, I know they died in a car crash-” Behind him, Snape snorts and Harry looks back at him to see him shaking his incredulously. </p><p> </p><p>     “As if James Potter had the faintest idea how to drive a car.” Snape shakes his head in disbelief</p><p> </p><p>     “Uncle Vernon said they were drinking and we got into a crash,” Harry tells them, looking and sounding confused, before turning accusing eyes on his aunt and uncle. “You <em> lied </em> to me?”</p><p> </p><p>     Snape is also suddenly angry, his wand in his hand again, pointing in the direction of the Dursleys. His eyes were on Petunia again. “You would have him believe that of Lily? She died <em> protecting </em> him and this is what you tell him?”</p><p> </p><p>     “Wait, protecting me? Protecting me from what?”</p><p> </p><p>     “Now, see here,” Vernon suddenly interrupts, seeming to finally find his voice again. “We agreed when we took him in that we’d stamp out this affliction. We won’t have it here.”</p><p> </p><p>     Harry opens his mouth to ask his uncle what he means, but a hand on his shoulder keeps him quiet. “Severus.” McGonagall’s voice is stern, and after a moment Snape puts his wand away. She turns her gaze back on the Dursleys, and her tone is cold as she says, “Let me make something perfectly clear to you, Mr. Dursley. <em> You </em> may be ignorant of our world, but I am perfectly aware of the laws of yours. Having a child sleep in a cupboard alone would warrant a visit by local authorities under the Childrens’ Act of 1989, which is not to take into account what other treatment may be occurring that might negatively impact a child’s development. Furthermore, under <em> our </em> laws, you could very well be prosecuted for neglect and abuse as well. </p><p> </p><p>     “Finally, I am more than certain that the letter left here with Harry explained not only the circumstances by which he came to you, but that he would be expected to attend Hogwarts in the future. I am certain of this because I was here that night. You can no more prevent his attending than you can stop time, so I suggest you leave us be before <em> I </em> am the one to lose my temper.”</p><p> </p><p>     She keeps her eyes on them for a moment, the threat hanging in the air, before turning back to Harry, effectively dismissing the Dursleys in their own home. In a gentler, quieter tone, McGonagall explains to Harry that his mother and father were a witch and wizard that met while they attended school in Hogwarts, and the events that led to his being orphaned and raised by the only family left to him, the Dursleys. He’s famous for defeating the dark wizard who’d given him his lightning scar, and non-magical folks--Muggles--may not know him, but all of wizarding Britain had known his name since that fateful night.</p><p> </p><p>     Harry swallows, not sure he likes the idea of being famous for something he can’t even remember. Especially not when it ended with his parents dead and him an orphan. He’s quiet as he stares at his hands, processing all this new information.When he looks up, he realizes both professors are watching him, and he shifts uncomfortably.</p><p> </p><p>      “So, uh, h-how do I get all the stuff on that list for school anyway?” He makes a vague motion towards the door as he says, “They won’t want to buy me new school supplies.”</p><p> </p><p>     “How would you feel about a shopping trip?” She stands up, smoothing out her skirt and pulling a key from her right pocket. “This is the key to your Gringotts vault. As your father had no other siblings or next of kin, you are the sole heir to the Potter fortune. I don’t know the specifics, but I’m certain there’s enough there for your school supplies.”</p><p> </p><p>     Blinking at the key, Harry repeats, “Fortune?” He’s inherited a <em> fortune </em>? He stands up and takes the old fashioned key, the weight of it somehow making it all feel more real. “Did the Dursleys know?”</p><p> </p><p>     “Likely not.” Snape answers, thinking if Dumbledore had kept the key this long, he had likely also kept the vault’s existence from Lily’s sister.</p><p> </p><p>     McGonagall nods her head in agreement, half turned as she looks back towards the doorway as if she could see the Dursleys through it, wherever they had retreated. “Severus, why don’t you go on ahead while I speak with Mr. and Mrs. Dursley? I will meet up with you afterwards.”</p><p> </p><p>     “Excuse me?”</p><p> </p><p>     She looks back to meet his gaze, a challenging look in her eye. “I do believe in this, I am the better choice. Don’t you agree?”</p><p> </p><p>     Harry looks between them as her question is met with silence. There’s a long stretch where Snape does not answer before he sighs in defeat. “How, pray tell, do you suggest we get there? I am certain that the fireplace here has not been connected to the Floo network.” </p><p> </p><p>     “I was thinking the Knight Bus,” McGonagall states. She stifles a smile at the audible sigh that response elicits. “You know how the Ministry feels about Side-Along Apparition outside of an emergency, Severus. Besides, it may be a bit much for the boy.”</p><p> </p><p>     Harry frowns, not liking the implication that he couldn’t handle whatever this ‘apparating’ is, but he holds his tongue not wanting to give either adult a reason to cancel this trip either. He’s never been anywhere that wasn’t school or Mrs. Figg’s without the Dursleys, and he’s definitely never been shopping for himself. He’s not sure the Dursleys have ever bought him anything in his entire life, aside from his glasses, and even those had been bought second-hand so as to be as cheap as possible.</p><p> </p><p>     Snape mutters something under his breath, but Harry only catches the word ‘Ministry’. The man looks him over and his frown deepens. He seems like he wants to say something, but doesn’t, and seeming to read his mind, McGonagall adds, “There are some shops on Oxford Street, if memory serves. Could probably get some better clothes for Mr. Potter there.”</p><p> </p><p>     Red-faced, Harry looks down at his ill-fitting, visibly worn clothes. He’d set aside the clothes that fit him the best and looked the least worn, but considering what little care Dudley took of his clothes, knowing they’d be replaced as needed, very little of what Harry received was in any good condition.</p><p> </p><p>     He looks back up when a hand is placed on his shoulder, and his eyes meet the kindly blue ones of the deputy headmistress. “Think of it as a gift. It’s your birthday today, is it not?” Harry finds he can only nod in response, a lump in his throat as he suddenly gets the urge to cry. </p><p> </p><p>     “Very well, then. Come along, Potter.” Snape strides past them and back towards the front door, leaving Harry to run to the cupboard to hurriedly put his shoes on and then out the door after the professor. He closes the door on the sight of Professor McGonagall giving him a small wave before heading down the hall towards the kitchen, presumably to look for his aunt and uncle.</p><p> </p><p>     Outside, Professor Snape is waiting for him by the street. When the door is closed, he pulls the stick out Harry had previously seen and now assumes is his wand, holding it out in the air as if he’s hailing a cab. Seconds later, there’s a loud, almost deafening BANG, and a bright purple, triple decker bus pulls to a stop in front of Snape. Harry stares wide-eyed, too shocked to move for a moment, as a conductor in a uniform the same purple as the bus hops out.</p><p> </p><p>     “Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency trans-”</p><p> </p><p>     Snape cuts him off. “Two to London.” He puts his wand away inside his coat and produces a coin purse from which he passes money over to the conductor. When that’s done, he takes a step as if to get on, then stops to look back at Harry. “Come on, then. We don’t have all day.”</p><p> </p><p>     “O-Oh, right!” Harry quickly follows after, getting onto the bus.</p><p> </p><p>     Snape motions for him to move towards the back, instructing him to take a seat, so Harry moves almost to the very rear, just a few rows ahead of stairs leading up to the higher decks. He sits by the window, wondering what the neighbors might think if they looked outside to see this bright purple monstrosity, and almost wishing he could at least see his aunt’s reaction. The professor is holding onto a pole behind the driver’s seat, speaking with the driver as the conductor jumps back on. With another loud BANG, they’re suddenly on a completely different street, and Harry can’t keep the shock and delight on his face. If he had doubted the existence of magic before, this surely was proof enough to wipe away all doubt.</p><p> </p><p>     Snape finishes his conversation with the conductor, which had amounted to specifying he needed to be dropped off by a clothing store on Oxford street, preferably one where children’s clothes might be purchased, and as close to Charing Cross Road as possible. He starts to head back to where his charge has taken a seat and finds himself stopping halfway to study him.</p><p> </p><p>     He looks incredibly like his childhood bully and nemesis, which he supposes is to be expected considering he <em> is </em> James Potter’s son. His eyes, though, are entirely Lily’s. A bright, disconcerting green he was not prepared to see when he first laid eyes on him, but which coupled with his uncanny resemblance to his father had made him easily distinguished from his cousin. Frankly, Snape had been entirely prepared to hate the boy on sight as soon as Dumbledore reminded him he would be starting at Hogwarts this coming school year.</p><p> </p><p>     Now, he is just deeply uncomfortable with the boy. He <em> looks </em> like his father, but he was nothing like him in manner. Not yet, at least. He also doesn’t resemble his mother either, the Lily he had grown up with, who had been playful and gregarious, entirely familiar with her magic long before she’d heard of Hogwarts or even known what she was. Instead, Harry Potter reminds Snape of himself as a child, the product of an abusive home and not used to speaking with others. He is perhaps less uncomfortable than Snape was himself, it’s hard to tell after such a short time in his company, but there’s a distinct familiarity in the way he seemed unsure as he spoke to them. Even the way he had been embarrassed at the quality of his clothes, though they hadn’t distinctly pointed them out, is something Snape could relate all too well to from his own childhood. </p><p> </p><p>     Strange, he thinks, that this boy seems more like him than he ever thought would be possible for a son of James Potter.</p><p> </p><p>~~~</p><p> </p><p>OXFORD street is almost overwhelming for an eleven-year old boy used to being left behind before such excursions. For the first time in his young life, Harry Potter can actually take in his surroundings without having to worry about somehow stepping out of line and getting in trouble with his aunt and uncle, or somehow inviting his cousin’s violence. He’d been too engrossed in watching the world speed by, and too intimidated by the serious professor, to ask Snape anything on the trip there, but as the Knight Bus disappears with what he thinks should be an audible bang, he notes that no one looks over. </p><p> </p><p>     “How did they not see the bus?” Harry asks Snape.</p><p> </p><p>     “Spells,” is the simple response he receives. Snape looks about, notes the large store they were dropped off, and moves towards the store. “Come. Stay close. I would rather not have to search for you in this crowd.”</p><p> </p><p>     Harry hurries after the man’s longer stride as he heads for a store named Marks and Spencer. Inside, they find their way to the children’s section and Snape instructs Harry to start looking for clothes that seemed likely to fit him. Having never actually <em> worn </em> clothes that fits him, Harry has no idea what size he is, and after a few minutes, looks hopelessly lost. Snape stifles the annoyance he feels, finds a store clerk a section over putting things away, and enlists their help by flat out lying. He tells the woman his nephew’s recently lost all his possessions in a house fire, and could she assist them in replacing his wardrobe? He was sadly unfamiliar with the boy’s size and could use the help of an expert.</p><p> </p><p>     In moments, the woman has Harry trailing after her as she goes and grabs a few basic things before directing him into a dressing room. Once his size is found, she chats amiably with Harry, putting him at ease as she determines the colors he likes best, all the while creating a small pile of clothes. In the end, there are five pairs of jeans, three pairs of shorts, some slacks, half a dozen T-shirts, another half dozen polo shirts, and a two button down shirts, all in mostly neutral, darker solid colors with about two plaid patterns, and the only white shirt being one of the button downs. Two packs of half dozen underwear, a new pair of sneakers, and a pair of dress shoes top it all off. </p><p> </p><p>     “If you’re anything like <em> my </em> boys,” she says, ringing it all up, “you’d be a right terror on light colors.” She adds to Snape in a low, conspiratorial voice, “Don’t think I want to know where even <em> half </em> those stains come from, to be honest.”</p><p> </p><p>     Harry ends up changing into a pair of jeans and a blue plaid shirt, while the rest is bagged away and his formerly ill-fitting clothes unceremoniously tossed into the closest bin. If it didn’t seem likely to annoy the professor, Harry thinks he’d jump for joy. He grabs the bags with his new clothes, almost like he’s afraid that if they’re out of sight, he’ll never see them again.</p><p> </p><p>     “Can you manage?” Snape asks, an eyebrow raised skeptically at seeing the small eleven year old juggling the numerous bags. At Harry’s nod, he adds, “We will be walking to our next destination, nearly two kilometers away.”</p><p> </p><p>     “Oh.” Harry still looks reluctant, but he relinquishes some of the bags over to the professor to carry. </p><p> </p><p>     Snape takes most of them, noting the boy’s reaction. He considers trying to comfort him for a moment, decides against it, and instead prompts him to follow. The silence that ensues feels awkward, so after five minutes, he finds himself asking him if he has any questions about Hogwarts.</p><p> </p><p>     “Loads,” Harry admits after a moment.</p><p> </p><p>     They pass the next twenty minutes of their walk with Snape telling Harry about the subjects he’ll be taking the first year, being sorted into a House the first night of the semester, and a little about each House, explaining who the head of each House is as well. Of course, Harry asks what House his parents belonged to, which then prompts him to ask if Snape knew his parents well.</p><p> </p><p>     Uncomfortably, he admits, “Your father and I were never friends, but Lily and I were friends before starting at Hogwarts. We...grew apart…”</p><p> </p><p>       Before he can ask for Snape to elaborate, they reach a broken-down shop front whose better days are, clearly, a distant memory. To the side of a door sits a tabby cat who, at their approach, starts to walk towards them and changes, mid-stride, into Professor McGonagall. She’s no longer dressed in the button down shirt and skirt he’d originally seen her in, instead wearing long black robes and a pointed witch’s hat. Harry stares, wide-eyed, and she gives him a small grin.</p><p> </p><p>     “You’ll learn about it in school,” she tells him to head off any questions, then motions at the bags between them. “I see clothes shopping was quite successful, Severus.</p><p> </p><p>     Harry flushes, remembering that the professor had paid for it all. “Yes. You said there’s a bank? I’ll pay it back,” he offers immediately, looking up at Snape. It’s hard to gauge whether the man likes him or not, as he seems to never smile unlike Professor McGonagall, but as someone who once knew his mother, he hopes to at least stay on the professor’s good side. Given the change, he’d like to find out more about his mother. Even a little bit about when she was a kid would be a vast improvement on the complete lack of information from his aunt, his mother’s own sister.</p><p> </p><p>     “Nonsense,” McGonagall says with a wave of her hand. “I will take care of it. Consider it eleven years’ worth of birthday presents.” Harry thanks her, and McGonagall continues. “Come then. We’ve still plenty to do. I’m sure Tom can hold onto these purchases in the meantime.”</p><p> </p><p>     She motions to the door of the shop front behind her, and as they approach, it seems to change before Harry’s eyes. The sign above the door reads ‘Leaky Cauldron’, and when he is ushered inside, he finds himself inside the dimly lit interior of a pub. They make their way towards the bar, Harry between the two professors, when a booming voice calls out.</p><p> </p><p>     “Professor McGonagall! Professor Snape! Fancy seein’ yeh here.” </p><p> </p><p>     Harry turns and finds himself looking up, up, up into the face of a giant of a man. He nearly falls back trying to see him, and ends up taking a few steps back when the man approaches, as he seems to not notice Harry at first and gets too close for the boy to comfortably look up at him without moving. The movement catches his eye, and after a moment, recognition sparks in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>     “Why, if it ain’t Harry,” he says, his voice carrying easily in the suddenly quiet pub. “You was only a baby las’ I saw yeh. Look just like yer dad, yeh do. ‘Cept the eyes, yeh’ve got yer mum’s eyes.”</p><p> </p><p>     Snape groans, as they’ve inevitably drawn the attention of everyone else in the pub. Harry hears his name being muttered, and suddenly many are approaching, trying to introduce themselves and shake his hands. Professor Snape ends up taking his bags and going to speak to the man at the bar, while McGonagall attempts to prevent people from crowding around the child. She throws an annoyed look at the giant man who first saw them, and he seems to realize the problem as he flushes and then loudly speaks over the growing noise. </p><p> </p><p>     “Now, now, that’s enough,” he calls out, moving close to Harry’s other side. The sheer size of the man forces the patron’s crowding Harry on that side to move back and away. “Leave the boy; very busy, he is. Gettin’ ready fer Hogwarts an’ all.” </p><p> </p><p>     He maneuvers them towards the back of the pub, one heavy hand on Harry’s back to push him along. Harry looks over his shoulder to find McGonagall directly behind them. Further back, he thinks he might see Snape talking to a man in a turban briefly, but people shift and his view is blocked. Finally, they’re in the backyard of the pub, and the door is close decisively behind them.</p><p> </p><p>     “Really, Hagrid,” McGonagall scolds. “There was no need to draw attention to the boy.”</p><p> </p><p>     “Sorry.” The big man looks chagrined, but he directs a smile at Harry. “Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts. Be seein’ quite a lot of yeh this comin’ school year, I reckon.”</p><p> </p><p>     Harry finds himself smiling back, already liking the giant man. </p><p> </p><p>     “Speaking of Hogwarts, what brings you from the school?” McGonagall questions.</p><p> </p><p>     Hagrid looks down at Harry briefly, then says simply, “Business fer Dumbledore over at Gringotts.” This causes McGonagall to narrow her eyes, but she says nothing as Snape steps out of the pub to join them. He, too, is now dressed in a robe, much like many of the patrons of the pub had been, and Harry wonders if that’s just normal attire in the wizarding world. “Professor! Good of yeh to join us!”</p><p> </p><p>     “Hm.” </p><p> </p><p>     Snape says nothing else, walking over to the brick wall and pulls his wand out. Harry watches him tap the wall three times, and then a hole appears in the middle of the wall that expands until it has turned into a large archway. Beyond is a cobbled street with more people of various ages in robes bustling about or standing looking into shop windows. He can’t get enough of the sights and sounds, and Harry finds himself following after the adults in a daze, wanting to look in every direction at once and lamenting his inability to do so. </p><p> </p><p>     Vaguely, he hears them agreeing to head to Gringotts, and he brings his attention around as they approach a large, towering white building with bronze doors. Outside is a very short creature, impossible to mistake for anything human, and Harry finds himself wanting to ask but not quite wanting to do so where the creatures will hear him. </p><p> </p><p>     “Goblins,” McGonagall supplies suddenly, and Harry looks up to see her watching him. “They run Gringotts.” Harry nods in understanding, and they collectively make their way inside, to a second pair of doors in silver this time, and then into a marble hall. They approached a counter and McGonagall waves Hagrid forward.</p><p> </p><p>     “I’ve a letter from Professor Dumbledore,” says Hagrid proudly. He searched through the pockets of his large, black coat until he produced said letter. Puffing up his chest proudly, he passes it over to the goblin at the counter. “About the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen.”</p><p> </p><p>     The goblin reads over the letter. “Very well. Someone will escort you down. Griphook!” As another goblin approaches, the one at the counter turns to the rest of them. “And you?”</p><p> </p><p>     “Mr. Potter needs to access his safe.” Snape replies.</p><p> </p><p>     McGonagall then tells Harry, “Show him your key, Harry.” Harry, who stuffed it in the pocket of his new pants when he changed back at the store, takes it out and holds it out for the goblin. As he’s examining it, McGonagall adds, “I also had some questions regarding the Potters’ last will and testament.”</p><p> </p><p>     Snape seems surprised, turning to look at her and raise an eyebrow in question. She ignores him for the moment, turning to Hagrid. “Could you accompany Harry to his vault?”</p><p> </p><p>     “Course,” Hagrid agrees readily. The goblin passes Harry back his key, directing him and Hagrid to follow after Griphook.</p><p> </p><p>     Once they have left, the goblin looks back at McGonagall. “What question did you have? Be aware, client confidentiality limits what information we can provide to anyone except for Mr. Potter’s guardian and Mr. Potter himself when he’s of age.”</p><p> </p><p>     “That is precisely the question I have,” McGonagall explains. “Mr. Potter’s legal guardians to this point have been Muggle relatives, the Dursleys. Would he need to bring them here with him to hear his parents’ will?”</p><p> </p><p>     The goblin stares at her for a long moment before answering. “They are not his <em> magical </em>guardian.”</p><p> </p><p>     “Who is?” Snape questions, knowing James Potter died with no known relatives, and Lily’s only living relative was her Muggle sister.</p><p> </p><p>     “If a magical child is orphaned and his parents or legal guardians have not designated a guardian in their place,” the goblin states, almost as if reciting from a document, “one is determined for the child.”</p><p> </p><p>     “That is normally their Head of House,” McGonagall says aloud. “But Mr. Potter has not yet started school. Which would make his guardian--”</p><p> </p><p>     “The Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore,” the goblin finishes. “We therefore would require the headmaster’s authorization to release any information from the will to Mr. Potter or anyone else.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter title comes from the Christina Perri song "Burning Gold". </p><p>Marks and Spencer is a real place.</p><p>I'm still working on the computer situation, so no steady schedule for updates yet. But as stated on the previous chapter, I'll post updates as they happen to writingmyselfout.tumblr.com, and provide updates on the computer situation there.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter Three: Here We Are, No One Else</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>School shopping.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Look, an update that is NOT posted in the wee morning hours on the east coast! Amazing.</p><p>Gonna try to post at least once a week sometime between Friday nights to Sunday nights. To keep up to date on that and updates in general, visit my writing blog: writingmyselfout.tumblr.com!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>SNAPE and McGonagall wait until they are outside, standing a short ways from the steps of Gringotts but still clearly visible for anyone coming out of the doors to discuss their recent discovery.</p><p> </p><p>     “Severus, if memory serves, the Potters were wealthy, were they not?” McGonagall questions, looking around for a moment as she clasps her hands behind her back.</p><p> </p><p>     “Yes.” Snapes tone is bitter as he agrees. “Quite.”</p><p> </p><p>     McGonagall nods her head. “As I thought. So James Potter was likely the sole heir, and would have in turn left everything to Harry. I cannot imagine he, and especially not <em> Lily Evans </em>-- bright girl that she was--would have been so careless as to not leave a will in case of their demise. Not with how things were back then.”</p><p> </p><p>     “Highly unlikely.” Snape’s arms are crossed, eyes on the bank’s doors. “Perhaps Albus Dumbledore was who they chose, <em> because </em> of You-Know-Who.” Despite his words, it does not sound like the Potions Master himself believes that to be the case.</p><p> </p><p>     “Could be,” McGonagall concedes. “But considering how close knit James’ group of friends were, however, I find it hard to believe though. Only one of them might have been viable in the end, but considering he was the most responsible of the lot, I can’t say I’m not confused that Remus Lupin was not named as a guardian for Harry in case the worst came to pass.” </p><p> </p><p>     She pauses, seeming to consider her next words before continuing, voice a little lower. “I am concerned with Albus’s decision to not only leave Harry with Lily’s sister and her family in light of what we saw, but to not once check up on the boy in nearly ten years. At the very least, the boy has been neglected, and at worse-” She looks over at Snape, expression grim. “I shudder to think.</p><p> </p><p>     “Not to speak ill of the headmaster, but I must question his motive for leaving the child alone in that situation for as long as he has.”</p><p> </p><p>     “He, perhaps, was simply more optimistic about what awaited Harry in Petunia’s care,” Snape offers diplomatically. “Regardless, while he is the boy’s guardian in the wizarding world, he will have the ultimate say in various things, including access to the Potters’ will and whoever else may have been named guardian.”</p><p> </p><p>     “At least not until guardianship passes to Harry’s Head of House.” McGonagall considers. “I could speak with Albus about the will, but with the term due to begin soon, it may be better to simply wait for that guardianship to transfer over.”</p><p> </p><p>     Snape is quiet for a moment, before he points out, “If he is in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, Flitwick and Sprout will leave Harry’s guardianship in the headmaster’s hands.” It’s hard to tell whether he thinks that’s for the best or not, his tone even.</p><p> </p><p>     “I think if concerns were raised regarding the boy’s upbringing, both Filius or Pomona would take a more active role than that,” McGonagall argues. “Considering both James and Lily were Gryffindor, however, I suspect I’ll have another lion.”</p><p> </p><p>     “It would be in his own best interest,” Snape states flatly. “I don’t imagine he would be all that welcomed among the Slytherin fold.” </p><p> </p><p>     He does not need to elaborate for her, and McGonagall says nothing, knowing that among her students, many are the offspring of parents who had remained neutral or openly sided with the dark wizard Harry is famed for bringing down. Many of those students, unfortunately, belong mostly to Slytherin. Although she tries to treat her students fairly, and most of all to separate them from whatever deeds their families may be responsible for, she can’t deny that it may be in Harry’s best interest and safety to be in any other House. </p><p> </p><p>     Before their conversation can continue, they see the hulking figured of Hagrid coming out of Gringotts, with the more diminutive Harry only visible when the groundskeeper stands aside to hold the door open for the boy. The deputy headmistress lifts a hand to draw their attention. </p><p> </p><p>     “That was amazing!” Harry gushes, eyes bright. “It was like riding a rollercoaster!”</p><p> </p><p>     “A Muggle ride,” Snape explains at McGonagall’s raised eyebrow and glance.</p><p> </p><p>     “Infernal carts,” Hagrid grumbles under his breath. “Harry’s got more ‘an enough teh get his school supplies. I’m off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron.” </p><p> </p><p>     He starts to walk away from them, but stops at McGonagall’s stern, “Hagrid.”</p><p> </p><p>     “Yes, professor?”</p><p> </p><p>     “While I can’t say for certain, I do have my suspicions as to what it was that Albus had you come pick up,” she lectures. “It would be best for you to take it back to Hogwarts promptly, don’t you agree?” </p><p> </p><p>     “Well, yes, but.” Hagrid shifts from one foot to the other like a schoolboy who’s been scolded, and Harry tries to stifle a grin at the sight. The big man looks back the way they came in, towards the pub at the end of the road. “It’s just <em> one </em> drink.”</p><p> </p><p>     McGonagall sighs. “Fine, but I shall accompany you until you leave. For my own peace of mind,” she declares. She looks over at Snape and Harry. “Harry, for your uniform requirements you’ll need to go over there to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. Just let her know you’re starting at Hogwarts; she knows what you’ll need and get you measured.”</p><p> </p><p>     “I assume you can handle that without supervision,” Snape adds. “I will get your books at Flourish and Blotts in the meantime to save time. I will get you after.”</p><p> </p><p>     With that plan in place, Harry goes off to the shop he’d been directed to, a coin pouch full of more money than he’s ever had access to bouncing in a pocket. Hagrid had given him a brief rundown of the coins, and he thinks he’s got it squared away, but he’s not too worried about being overcharged. The professors had felt confident he could manage on his own for a bit, and they surely wouldn’t have if they thought he might be overcharged or cheated. </p><p> </p><p>     Still, he’s nervous as he enters the shop, whose front room has some seats, but is mostly floor to ceiling bolts of fabric, with a few ready-made robes apparently for, as the shop sign declares, all occasions. Some mannequins are spread throughout, floating in the air and rotating softly to best display the styles. He stops a few steps in, hoping that the ringing of the shop bell will bring someone over as he’s not sure where to go.</p><p> </p><p>     Some curtains hanging between two tall shelves of fabric are suddenly pulled aside and a smiling, squat woman dressed entirely in mauve--from the witch’s hat on her head to the bit of shoe visible just under her matching robes--comes out. </p><p> </p><p>     “Another for Hogwarts?” she asks. At Harry’s quiet nod, she waves him over. “Come on, then. I’m Madam Malkin. I’ve another student back here as well.” </p><p> </p><p>     Harry walks over and she leads him into the backroom of the shop. Sure enough, there’s a boy being directed to stand up on a footstool. His blonde hair is almost white and the eyes that look over at Harry as he comes over to stand on the stool next to him are light grey. Harry feels like he has seen him somewhere before, although he can’t possibly say where, and thinks it may be down to the same feeling that had come over him when he first saw his Hogwarts letter. That déjà vu feeling is becoming so familiar now, and has worked out so well for him thus far, that he doesn’t think to question it.</p><p> </p><p>     “Hi,” Harry says, not waiting for the boy to greet him first. “Are you starting at Hogwarts too?” Harry belatedly realizes it might seem like a stupid question. He’s not sure if there even are other magic schools in the country. Surely in other countries, right?</p><p> </p><p>     “Hello. I am.” The boy confirms in a drawl. “Mother is next door getting books while my father is over on Knockturn. She wants us to look at wands after, but I think I’ll drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first years can’t have their own.”</p><p> </p><p>     “Is it just first years who can’t?” Harry asks, interrupting. He’s stunned at the idea of <em> actually </em> riding a broom, like in cartoon depictions of witches, and almost launches into more questions about it but refrains, thinking he doesn’t want to yet reveal just how completely clueless he is about all things magical. This kid clearly has magical parents and has grown up with it like it’s just a normal thing. </p><p> </p><p>     “Yes, just first years.” The boy confirms. </p><p> </p><p>     Around them, the witch in mauve and another has each rolled out a measuring tape that, with a wave of their wands, begins to measure each boy. Harry tries not to stare, fascinated, partly because he’s instructed to hold still. While the tapes measure them, the bell at the front rings and one woman goes to the front while the other moves to the other side of the room to start rifling through a line of black robes.</p><p> </p><p>     When they’ve moved away, the blonde boy leans over to Harry and adds conspiratorially, “If I can get Father to buy me a new broom, I may try to smuggle it in.”</p><p> </p><p>     “Do you think they have spells for that?” Harry asks. If there’s a rule, surely they have a way to enforce it?</p><p> </p><p>     “Hm, I hadn’t thought of that,” the boy admits. “Maybe.” He seems to take a better look at Harry, then holds a hand out to him. “My name’s Draco Malfoy, by the way. I’m sure you’ve heard of my family.”</p><p> </p><p>     The name he’s given brings the same feeling seeing the boy had, accompanied by a certainty that he should try to be friends with this boy. Taking the hand, he admits, “Not really, sorry. I’m Harry Potter.”</p><p> </p><p>     Draco’s eyes widen, but they’re both distracted by a squeak of surprise behind them. They turn to look, and the second woman is bent over, picking up the robes she dropped. She stares at Harry, eyes comically wide, before she scurries towards the front room.</p><p> </p><p>     “Are you really?” Draco asks, head tilted as he takes Harry in from head to toe. The bored quality of his voice is gone, curiosity taking its place.</p><p> </p><p>     “Uh, yeah,” Harry admits. “I, uh, forget that people know me.”</p><p> </p><p>     Draco raises an eyebrow at that, but whatever he might have to say is kept quiet as the two women come bustling back into the room. </p><p> </p><p>     “Harry Potter! I thought I might be seeing you this year,” the mauve witch exclaims delightedly. “Are the rumors true? Do you have a scar from You-Know-Who?”</p><p> </p><p>     Harry blinks at the question before simply lifting his bangs, his scar clearly visible on his forehead. The three others in the room all lean in at least slightly to get a better look, but Draco is the first to straighten, feigning disinterest. </p><p> </p><p>     “Wow,” Madam Malkin breathes. Uncomfortable at how long he’s being stared at, Harry lets his bangs fall back to cover the scar, and the older woman’s eyes drop to his. She smiles at him. “Well, we have to make sure you are <em> very </em> well dressed for your school debut, don’t we? We’ll finish up these measurements and be sure to get these to you in an hour or so, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>     Harry nods and looks over at Draco, trying to think of something to talk about with the other boy. He’s momentarily at a complete loss as to what he could possibly talk about, then remembers the questions he’d asked Snape while they walked. “Uh, so what House are you hoping to get into?” </p><p> </p><p>     “Slytherin,” Draco announces immediately, explaining, “All our family have been.”</p><p> </p><p>     “Oh, that’s Professor Snape’s House.” Harry’s pleased to be able to display some knowledge about the school.</p><p> </p><p>     “You know him?” Draco asks.</p><p> </p><p>     Harry nods. “Oh, yes, he’s actually next door getting my books right now too,” he admits. “I’m here with him and Professor McGonagall. He said both my parents were in Gryffindor, so I guess that might be where I end up.”</p><p> </p><p>     “Slytherin and Gryffindor are rival Houses,” Draco says in response.</p><p> </p><p>     Before Harry can reply, Madam Malkin declares she’s finished. When Harry asks how much for his robes, she waves him off, declaring it’s on the house. “Least I can do for the Boy Who Lived,” she tells him proudly. </p><p> </p><p>     Harry feels his face get hot with embarrassment, and he’s not sure how if he should insist he pays or if it would be rude to refuse. He’s saved from responding by them finishing with Draco, and attention being diverted to him instead as they tell him to tell his mother that his items should also be finished within the next hour or so. It makes him relax some knowing that the other boy isn’t going to have to wait longer, although he’s still uncomfortable with the obviously special treatment. </p><p> </p><p>     The two head outside, and Harry picks up the conversation where they left it. “Even if we end up in different Houses, we can still be friends, right?”</p><p> </p><p>     It’s the most forward he’s ever been with someone his own age. He’s never really had a friend, his classmates always opting to steer clear when it becomes obvious that he’s Dudley’s favorite target for bullying. He can’t say he blames them, understanding not wanting to be bullied, but he wishes at least one of them had been brave enough to be his friend anyway. He hopes now things will change, and he’s willing to make the effort to make new friends.</p><p> </p><p>     Draco himself seems taken aback by the question, and he looks at Harry for a moment, before shrugging. “I guess so.” He doesn’t sound very convincing, but he’s not refusing outright, so Harry takes it as a win. “Mother is probably still in the bookstore,” he says, pointing at the store next door. </p><p> </p><p>     “Professor Snape too,” Harry agrees. “Should we go find them?” </p><p> </p><p>     Draco agrees, and the two boys make their way into the store. They’re forced to navigate between stacks of books and a number of other customers to search the store. When they find themselves next to some stairs leading up to the second story, Harry goes up three steps then stops suddenly, causing Draco to run into him. He laughs before pointing Snape out, who he just spotted, and they backtrack to make their way towards the front of the store.</p><p> </p><p>     “Professor Snape!” Harry calls when he’s close enough to think the man will hear him over the din of the crowd. </p><p> </p><p>     Snape looks over, spotting the boy’s waving arms in the crowd. “Mr. Potter, just in time to pay for your books.”</p><p> </p><p>     “Sure thing!” Harry readily agrees, excited to be able to pay for his own things for once. “Oh, Draco, this is Professor Snape. Professor, this is Draco-”</p><p> </p><p>     “Ah, yes, Lucius and Narcissa’s son.” Snape recognizes the boy immediately, his resemblance to his father striking. He’s surprised the two are together, though, and notes that his parents aren’t around. “Where are your parents?”</p><p> </p><p>     “Father had an errand on Knockturn,” Draco immediately supplies, his tone respectful. “Mother is in here.” He looks out over the crowded store, and adds, “Somewhere.”</p><p> </p><p>     Snape nods, assuming the boys met in Madam Malkin’s. He directs the store employee to wrap Harry’s purchases before turning to the boys. “The two of you wait outside. I will locate her and let her know you’re outside.”</p><p> </p><p>     He waits for Harry’s books to be wrapped before he shrinks them down and hands them over to Harry to hold onto. Snape shoos them outside and then turns to go search for Narcissa Malfoy. He locates her fairly quickly, her slim figure and long blonde hair--only a shade or so darker than her son’s--familiar enough to him that he can recognize her quickly. </p><p> </p><p>     “Narcissa.” He waits until he’s only a step or so away from her and the woman she is speaking with to say her name.</p><p> </p><p>     Blue eyes look over and, raising an eyebrow, she says, “Why, Severus Snape. I can’t say I expected to see you today.”</p><p> </p><p>     “I am assisting with a student,” he explains simply, not elaborating further. “Your son was looking for you; I advised him to wait out front.”</p><p> </p><p>     “So you’ve met my Draco.” She smiles fondly. She bids her companion goodbye before motioning for a house elf behind her carrying a stack of books to follow her. “Thank you for letting me know. He’s certain to be in your House this year, so I do hope you’ll do me the favor of keeping a close eye on him. You know boys that age are prone to getting into trouble.”</p><p> </p><p>     “It goes without saying,” Snape agrees readily. “You know I could do no less for you and Lucius.”</p><p> </p><p>     Outside, Harry and Draco move away from the bookstore’s door to avoid getting in the way of customers entering or exiting. Harry decides to admit to Draco he doesn’t know much about brooms and ask him about it, which gets the other boy going into detail on what makes a good racing broom versus what makes a good Quidditch broom. When Harry asks what Quidditch is, Draco is stunned speechless for half a second, before he launches into an explanation of what the game is and the rules. He’s just starting to get into why his favorite team (the Wimbourne Wasps) are the best when McGonagall comes over.</p><p> </p><p>     “Harry, where is Professor Snape?” she asks as she comes by, looking the two boys over. “And who might this be?”</p><p> </p><p>     “This is Draco Malfoy, we met in the robes store,” Harry replies. “Draco, this is Professor McGonagall, she’s the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts.” Draco greets her, and Harry answers the other question she asked. “Snape was looking for Draco’s mum in the bookstore ‘cause it’s busy.” </p><p> </p><p>     “Unsurprising, considering the time of year.” She looks over at the store briefly before looking back at Harry. “Hagrid is getting you a birthday present.”</p><p> </p><p>     “It’s your birthday?” Draco asks. Harry nods, blushing at the idea of someone very deliberately buying him a gift. First the clothes, and now something from the groundskeeper. </p><p> </p><p>     “He doesn’t have to,” Harry mutters, embarrassed.</p><p> </p><p>     McGonagall smiles at his reaction. “No, but he would like to, so it’s only polite to accept.” Snape and Mrs. Malfoy emerge from the bookstore and McGonagall lets the boys know.</p><p> </p><p>     “If it’s your birthday, we should get cake,” Draco announces matter of factly. </p><p> </p><p>     Without waiting for a response from Harry, he goes over to meet his mother and Snape, pointing briefly back at Harry where he stands with McGonagall. There’s a brief discussion in which Snape nods, and then he and Draco come back over to where Harry is watching them. </p><p> </p><p>     “Mr. Malfoy will be joining us for lunch,” Snape informs them, “while Mrs. Malfoy finishes his school shopping.”</p><p> </p><p>     The two professors and their charges make their way to one of the many cafes located in Diagon Alley. They were seated immediately despite their being decently busy, and it soon became clear Draco was the reason when the manager on duty came to greet him and ask after his parents. He seemed to sit up a little taller speaking to the man, telling him importantly that <em> his friend </em> Harry Potter was celebrating his birthday today and they were hoping to have a small celebratory lunch. </p><p> </p><p>     As it had earlier in the day, it causes a flurry of activity, and they very clearly become the center of attention. Word spreads through the other patrons, who crane their necks to try and get a clear view, seemingly being kept from coming over by the staff. Harry is both embarrassed and amused, as his self-proclaimed new friend Draco is clearly enjoying the havoc his words have wrought. Snape grumbles under his breath, but Harry doesn’t catch it, though he does see Professor McGonagall, stifling a smile, leaning over to speak to him in a low voice the boys across from them can’t quite catch. Not that Draco seems to be paying them any real mind.</p><p> </p><p>     Soon, neither is Harry. He’s too fascinated by the servers taking orders while simultaneously serving water or setting drinks from a tray down, a floating notepad and quill by their heads writing down everything being said. Trays heavily laden with food are also brought out with magic, followed closely by a server with a wand out, whose occasional flick of the wrist directs the tray to gently move to avoid other servers, patrons, and even other floating trays. Their own server makes a show of having their food fly off the tray, making elaborate turns in the air before landing softly in front of each of them, with nary a crumb falling off the plate.</p><p> </p><p>     He doesn’t think he could be more impressed, until they come out with a cake for him. He doesn’t recall even seeing cake as an option on the dessert menu, so clearly they’ve either had it made or brought over specially for him. Instead of candles, little magic flames dance around the edge of the cake until it’s set down on the table. Soon after, the servers break out into a birthday song that the other patrons soon join in on and Harry’s red face doesn’t distract from the smile he’s unable to keep off his face. When they’re done singing, the little dancing flames rearrange in the air to say ‘Happy Birthday!’ and he’s directed to blow them out like he normally would.</p><p> </p><p>     It’s hands down the best birthday he’s ever had. </p><p> </p><p>     After lunch, Hagrid finds them and gifts Harry with a snowy white owl of his own which, he’s told, he can use to communicate with others in the wizarding world. He and Draco agree to write before the blonde goes off with Snape to meet back up with his mother. Harry in turn goes with McGonagall to continue getting the rest of his school supplies, with Hagrid tagging along. </p><p> </p><p>     They go for his wand, and he’s glad to have the stern professor with him, unnerved when the old wandmaker Ollivander informs him that his wand is the brother to the one that gave him his scar. McGonagall dismisses the information, thanks Ollivander for his assistance, and outside promptly tells Harry that regardless of whether that information is true or not, he’s not to put any weight into the information. A wand, after all, is an extension of its wizard. Whether the things done with it are good or bad lies solely with the wielder. Then she marches him off to get the rest of his things and pick up his robes. Snape joins them when they reach the Apothecary, doing his own shopping. When Harry picks up a “Student’s First Potion Kit” marketed for new students, Snape scoffs loudly, takes it out of his hand, and promptly marches him over to where the fresh ingredients are, explaining that so long as he can afford fresher ingredients, they would always serve him better than any cheap kits or bundles. </p><p> </p><p>     Soon, it’s time for him to go home again. He’s sure both professors are more than ready to call it a day, but Harry still finds himself wishing he could somehow prevent it from ending. His things are all put away inside his newly bought trunk, with the exception of his owl, who sits serenely in her cage. They leave through the Leaky Cauldron, Hagrid bidding Harry a good summer before heading for the bar before they make it out the door. </p><p> </p><p>     It’s like emerging from a dream, Harry thinks, looking around at normal, non-magical people going about their day. No one is in robes, holding wands, or making things float or change colors or anything. </p><p> </p><p>     McGonagall holds her wand out, and the Knight Bus returns once more. “I’m afraid we shall have to send you back on your own, Mr. Potter.” She directs her next comment to the conductor, an older gentleman than the one from earlier in the day. “Please see that my student gets to 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, if you please. Could you assist with his trunk? Thank you.</p><p> </p><p>     “Now.” She turns back to Harry, reaching into her pocket for something. “One last thing. This is your ticket for the Hogwarts Express. It will leave promptly at eleven o’clock on September first, so please be sure you are on time with that ticket. The platform is hidden from Muggles. Go to the barrier betweens platforms nine and ten, and there you’ll walk through the barrier to reach platform nine and three-quarters.”</p><p> </p><p>     Harry nods his head in understanding, slipping the envelope into his back pocket. They remind him his new owl can reach them if necessary, so he’s to write immediately if there is any trouble with the Dursleys when he gets home, though McGonagall states she’s confident that they will behave themselves from here on out. Reluctantly, he climbs into the Knight Bus, sitting at a window seat where he can see the professors one last time. He manages to wave before they are suddenly gone, and the bus lurches forward with a BANG!</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter title is from the song "We Are Going To Be Friends" by The White Stripes. Heh.</p><p>This one is a little shorter than the previous chapters, but it's because I decided the next part wasn't going to be long enough to warrant tacking on here at the end when it would work better to start the next chapter instead. </p><p>The next chapter, where we'll FINALLY get to Hogwarts and more students!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter Four: Writing on the Wall</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Off to Hogwarts</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Word of advice: Do not stay up modding your bf's almost-24-hour art stream when you have work the next day and writing to get done. Especially when insomnia means your sleep schedule is already screwed up. 'Cause I'm about to hit 48 hours with less than 5 hours of sleep, and I've got less than 3 hours to nap before I gotta work. </p><p>I will fix the formatting to match the other chapters...eventually...? Just wanted to get this up but I'm too tired to fix. I wish it would just copy/paste accurately in the first place. ;-;</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>2 August 1991</em>
  </p>
  <p><em>DEAR Draco,</em> </p>
  <p>
    <em> Sorry if this is messy. I thought I’d practice writing with a quill. It’s easier than I thought it’d be, but messier to. I have to remember not to leave the tip on the paper or it leaves big smudges. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> What was the name of the </em> <em> restorant </em> <em> restaurant we went to lunch to? The cake at that place was the best I’ve had! I hope the food at Hogwarts is that good too. I can’t wait for classes to start. I’ve been reading a few of the books in the meantime. I decided to name my owl Hedwig, after a witch I read about in </em> A History of Magic <em> .  </em></p>
  <p>
    <em> Will you be taking the train too? If you aren’t already sitting with friends, maybe we can sit together? If that’s okay, of course. You’ll be the only person I know so far. If you’ve got other friends sitting with you already no worries. I guess I’m just nervous. Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape told me about being famous, but I didn’t realize what they meant until I saw people’s reaction to hearing my name and seeing me. Do you think it will be the same at school?  </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Write back soon please! </em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em> Harry Potter</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><hr/><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> 4 August 1991 </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Dear Harry, </em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em> Practice writing with a quill? Do you mean you’ve never used a quill before? What were you using to write until now? </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> The Copper Crup was the name. Mother would take me there for my birthday because their food is of much better quality than most of the others around. Of course, they have nothing on what our House elves can prepare at home, but it’s nice to go out sometimes, as Mother points out. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Mother and Father have said they have gotten me an owl from a breeder to take with me to Hogwarts. I haven’t seen him yet, but I think I’ll name him Vespid, after the most famous Wimbourne Wasps Beater.  </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Of course I’ll be taking the Hogwarts Express. All students have to take the train. Some of the others starting in our year I think expect me to sit with them since our parents are friends. Father probably wants me to, since their families are part of the Sacred 28. You can probably sit with us. Some of them are kind of dumb, though. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> Did you really not know you are famous? Have you been living under a rock? Forget just school, or even England. </em> <em> Every </em> <em> witch and wizard in the WORLD knows who you are! They write an article about you every year in the Daily Prophet. </em></p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em> Draco Malfoy </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><hr/><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>5 August 1991</em>
  </p>
  <p><em>Draco,</em> </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p><em> They write a WHAT about me every year? What’s the Daily Prophet? Is that like a newspaper for wizards? I thought I was just a normal, non-magical kid for years. I live with non-magical family, and they don’t like to talk about magic. But after what you said, I looked at more recent years. Did you know I’m mentioned in our </em> A History of Magic <em> book? Only a small bit, I guess ‘cause they don’t know anything else, but it’s embaressing. Embarassing? I can’t remember how to write that. </em></p>
  <p>
    <em> I guess if you’re used to quills, maybe you’ve never heard of a pen? It’s what non-magical folks use. It’s a big of plastic with ink inside of it and a metal tip to write with. Or pencils, which is wood. I’ve sent one of each over for you ‘cause I think it’d be easier than trying to explain in writing. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> It doesn’t sound like you like those other kids. Do you have to sit with them? Can we move seats during the trip? Maybe you can sit with them for a little while and then leave.  </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> But what do you mean, their families are sacred? What are House elves? I remember what you said Beaters did, but who was Vespid? Sorry if my questions are dumb. There’s so much I don’t know. But if my questions bother you, I’ll stop asking them. </em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em> Harry Potter </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><hr/><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> 8 August 1991 </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Harry, </em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em> You live with Muggles? No wonder you don’t know anything! I can’t imagine growing up with no magic. How terrible. Lucky for you, I know all there is to know. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> The Daily Prophet </em> is <em> the wizarding world newspaper. It gets delivered by owl every day. House elves are magical servants, but only older, more magical families have them. Most of the Sacred 28 do, anyway. The Sacred 28 are the oldest, pureblood wizarding families, and a lot of them are very important. None, of course, more than the Malfoys. Father is on the Board of Governors for Hogwarts, and he knows the Minister of Magic personally. Mother says that because of that, I must be careful with who I become friends with, as they might be trying to get close to me so their parents can get closer to Father, or because we’re wealthy.  </em></p>
  <p>
    <em> It will probably be the same for you, since you’re famous. Mother said the Potters were very wealthy, too, when I asked. Did you inherit everything? Are you and your Muggles relatives living at the Potter estate? </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> Most importantly, we must do something about how little you know about Quidditch. Elric Vespid was a Beater for the Wasps something like 600 years ago. He hit a wasps’ nest so hard at the Appleby Arrows’ Seeker that he retired, and it’s why the team became known as the Wasps. I have sent over my favorite book, </em> Quidditch Through the Ages. <em> It will tell you all you need to know about the game. Mother says it’s polite to return gifts when you’re given something, so consider it a thanks for what you sent me. I have never seen a pen or pencil before. They’re strange. I think I prefer a quill. </em></p>
  <p>
    <em> If there’s no magic at your house, what do you do for fun? </em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em> Draco Malfoy </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><hr/><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <br/>
    <em>11 August 1991</em>
  </p>
  <p><em>Hey Draco,</em> </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em> Thank you for the book! I’ve read it all. I can’t wait to see a real game.  </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Muggles aren’t all bad. But you should probably never meet my family. They are pretty terrible. If they’re the first Muggles any witch or wizard meets, they’d never want to meet another ever again and I wouldn’t blame them. They’re the worst, really. But my mum’s parents were Muggles, and I’ve mostly only known Muggles.  </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> Wow, is your dad really that important? You must’ve been surprised when I didn’t know who you were then! It sucks you have to worry about people being friends with you only ‘cause of your dad or your family’s money. I hope we can both make friends who don’t care and just want to be our friends ‘cause they like </em> us <em> , you know?  </em></p>
  <p><em> As for what my parents left me, I actually only found out at Gringotts right before meeting you that they left me a </em> lot <em> of money. I had no idea before, but I guess technically, I am wealthy now? But I don’t know anything about an estate. I tried to ask my aunt and uncle, but like always, they didn’t really give me an answer. I think they don’t actually know, ‘cause if they knew about how much money they’d left me, I’m sure they’d have tried to take it. My uncle actually said my dad wouldn’t have had anything to give me worth writing a will for. Can you believe it? I decided not to tell them anything. Maybe the professors can help me look into it.  </em></p>
  <p>
    <em> How cool would it be to find out there’s some big ol’ house somewhere they left me? </em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>Harry Potter</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>     With letters to read and respond to every few days, the month of August flies by for Harry. It helps that aside from when he first came by and his aunt informed him he was to move his things to the upstairs spare bedroom, his family has mostly ignored him. Their daily interactions were limited to letting him know meals are ready, and one time when Uncle Vernon told Harry to stop letting his owl come in and out of the bedroom before the neighbors noticed. Hedwig was less than pleased with the restriction, but Harry opts to avoid any issues by only letting her out at night.</p><p>     Draco’s letters were an insight into the world he would be entering in a way that reading through his books could not provide.Occasionally, his comments about Muggles or Muggle-borns, directly or what seems to be implied, make him pause. Harry tries to avoid complaining about the Dursleys once he notices, because he doesn’t think it helps his case when he tries to explain to Draco that Muggles aren’t all bad. </p><p>     After all, Harry isn’t exactly Muggle-born, but his mother was, and he feels like he may as well be when he grew up knowing nothing about magic. It makes him wonder if others think the same, or if maybe Draco grew up in a family similar to the Dursleys in that they hated people who were different. It meant either having an entire world that might think less of his mom if she were alive, or having a friend who might have a lot more in common with his dreaded cousin than he’d hoped. Harry prefers to not worry about it now and just enjoy having someone his own age to talk to for the time being.</p><p>     He’ll worry about everything else once school begins.</p><p> </p><p>~~~</p><p> </p><p>DRACO wakes up on the first of September practically vibrating with excitement, and much earlier than needed, as the sun is only just beginning to lighten the sky outside his window. It’s not as large as the one in his room back at Malfoy Manor, but this residence is in London, and therefore much closer to King’s Cross Station, where he’ll need to be in a few short hours. He calls for a House Elf to ready a bath for him and is a whirl of movement as he double checks his trunks to ensure that nothing was forgotten when the House Elves finished packing it the night before. They didn’t, of course, but he needs to move, to do something, or he feels like he might explode.</p><p>     He’s been waiting his whole life to go to Hogwarts. He’s imagined grand adventures and wow-ing other students with his natural talents at magic and Quidditch, and winning the House Cup for Slytherin for the next seven years. Sure, now that he knows he’ll be going to school with <em> the </em> Harry Potter, he realizes that maybe he won’t be the <em> most </em> popular, but he’s basically made the most famous kid in school his best friend before anyone else has even met him! So they’ll just be the most popular students together.</p><p>     The Malfoys had hosted an end of summer party to celebrate the incoming class of Slytherins a week before the term was to begin. Such get-togethers was really an excuse for the parents to talk privately of whatever matters adults spoke of, while the children basically bragged and attempted to ingratiate themselves with whoever their parents had told them to, often those present considered one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, or pestered the older among them to tell them more about Hogwarts. </p><p>     This specific gathering had only those whose families had children of Draco’s age and would be attending Hogwarts for the first time. Gregory Goyle, Millicent Bulstrode, Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe, Theodore Nott, Gemma Runcorn, and Daphne Greengrass--with her little sister Astoria in tow--were all expected to be sorted into Slytherin with Draco. They talked about what they expected based on information gleaned from older Slytherin students they knew, or some of the wild rumors they couldn’t seem to get confirmation or denial about, such as the Sorting being a test of skills. It quickly devolved into comparing the quality and price of the things they would be bringing to school.</p><p>     “Did you know,” Pansy suddenly piped up, interrupting Daphne Greengrass bragging about robes she’d gotten in Paris over the summer for school, “that Harry Potter is supposed to be starting this year too?”</p><p>     A new round of rumors and speculations they’d overheard from their parents were shared. Draco had been tempted to tell them that he had met the famous Boy Who Lived, the elusive child celebrity no one had ever seen. At least not accurately. The Daily Prophet had an artist rendering every year when they ran their anniversary article about the end of the Wizarding War, but the only description that anyone knew to be accurate was the lightning bolt scar on Harry Potter’s forehead. </p><p>     Instead he had kept it to himself, thinking it would be much funnier to present his <em> good friend </em> Harry Potter to them all on the Hogwarts Express. Imagining their expressions had delighted him, and as he gets ready, still brings a grin to his face. It helps to pass the time, which seems to drag on as he waits for it to be time to leave. Once his parents are awake and breakfast is served, though, it seems to be no time at all before they are at the station.</p><p>     They aren’t the first ones there, although he thinks if he had rushed his parents through breakfast, they might have managed it. Draco is certain his mother, who would normally only allow them to be either promptly on-time or fashionably late, is indulging his excitement. Being early means he practically has his pick of compartments. He opts for one in the middle, the House Elf that accompanied them puts his trunk in the compartment for him before disappearing back to Malfoy Manor, and then he goes to say goodbye to his parents. He allows his mother to fuss over him, smoothing his hair back and adjusting his robes as he tries not to impatiently look around. Even his parents are in for a surprise, as he has only told them that he’s been writing to the student he met at Diagon Alley with the Slytherin Head of House, Professor Snape, but not who that student is. </p><p>     “Lucius!” </p><p>     The Malfoy family turns as one to the voice calling. Mr. Parkinson is heading over, wife and daughter in tow. He’s pushing a cart with two trunks, presumably Pansy’s. It’s left to one side as the parents start talking, and Pansy comes over to Draco’s side, asking if he’s picked a compartment and where, so she can go sit with him. </p><p>     Draco doesn’t particularly want to sit with any of the girls he knows. For one, in his small experience, they tend to get bored with talk of Quidditch. For another, the compartments look like they’d fit about four to six comfortably, which means there’s just enough room for him, Harry, Theodore, and likely Vincent and Gregory, and still be able to sit one more. But if Pansy joins them, she’ll want at least one other girl to come, and then they’ll be over by one or squished in together. </p><p>     So he lies. ““Somewhere towards the front.” He makes a vague gesture, glad that his mother, if she notices, doesn’t correct him even though he knows she kept an eye on where he went when he boarded. Narcissa Malfoy always knows where Draco is at all times.</p><p>     Pansy nods her head, intercepting Crabbe and Goyle when they head over to get their help with her trunk. Ordering them, really, and Draco realizes that since she got to them first, they don’t know where he’s really sitting. Ah well, he’ll have to try to catch them on their own otherwise they’ll just have to sit with Pansy the whole trip.</p><p>     Hoping to catch Theodore before Pansy does so he can at least give him the right compartment, he suddenly catches sight of a familiar figure coming through the barrier from the Muggle side of King’s Cross station.</p><p>     “Oh, he’s here!” Draco announces, catching the attention the adults with the outburst. Before either of his parents can react, Draco is off, weaving his way through the crowd.</p><p>     Harry is moving slowly, pushing the cart with his heavy trunk and his caged owl, fascinated with the sight before him. He’d known, logically, that the professors wouldn’t have lied to him about how to get to the platform. It hadn’t prevented him from feeling like he was going to crash into a solid wall and cause a scene as he moved towards the barrier. He’s surprised and delighted to instead find a whole hidden section of the station. There are people all around, adults saying goodbye to their children, students greeting each other and gathering in small groups, and then there’s a blond boy standing in front of him, bringing Harry to an abrupt stop.</p><p>     “There you are,” Draco says by way of greeting. “What took you so long?”</p><p>     “Hey! We left a bit later than I’d hoped,” Harry explains. “It’s like a two to three hour drive for us. How’d you get here?”</p><p>     “We have a London residence,” Draco explains, his tone suggesting that this should be obvious. “And of course, with Father’s connections, we got a Ministry car to drive us. Come on then, my parents will want to meet you before we board.”</p><p>     Harry follows after Draco, slowing his steps when he gets a good look at the group awaiting them. He recognizes Mrs. Malfoy from the glimpse he got of her at Diagon Alley, and Draco’s practically the spitting image of his father, so it’s easy to figure out which is Mr. Malfoy. The rest of the adults, however, he can’t begin to guess who they are. What’s more, all eyes are on him and although he’d tried to remind himself that morning that this might happen once people realized who he was, there’s something distinctly unnerving about the way he’s being watched right now. They leave his cart by the train entrance, just to the side so as to not be in anyone’s way, and then Draco leads him over to the group watching them.</p><p>     “Mother, Father.” Draco stops in front of his parents. “This is the boy I met at Diagon Alley, Harry Potter. Harry, my parents Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.”</p><p>     “H-How do you do?” Harry mutters, trying to stand still under their scrutiny. </p><p>     “Why, Mr. Harry Potter. This is a pleasant surprise,” Mr. Malfoy says, smiling. It’s not a very friendly look. “How exciting for the students of Hogwarts to get to go to school with the wizarding world’s biggest hero.” </p><p>     Something about the way Mr. Malfoy says it makes Harry feel like he’s being insulted or mocked to his face. “I, uh, I should put my stuff on the train.” </p><p>     Harry forces a smile, and then starts to move towards the train. He’s sure it’s his imagination, but he is certain he can feel their gaze on his back and he’s distinctly uncomfortable. He has a hard time trying to explain to himself what it is about these adults that makes him want to flee, as it’s not quite the instinctual <em> knowing </em> he’s occasionally felt since the day he received his Hogwarts letter. But it’s close enough that, as trusting his instincts thus far with the wizarding world has turned out in his favor, he thinks he would be better off leaving their company as soon as possible.</p><p>     “Hold on.” Draco hurries after him. “Go right from here, and it’s the fourth one down. My trunks have the Malfoy crest on them.”</p><p>     He’s basically being ordered, which might have bothered him if he weren’t so desperate to get away right now. Harry instead just nods before he grabs Hedwig’s cage, deciding to get her inside first and moving the heavier trunk once he knows for sure where he’s going. Finding Draco’s trunk with his family crest, an image he’d grown accustomed to seeing pressed into the wax Draco used to seal his letters, was rather easy. He set Hedwig’s cage inside, and then went back to get his trunk. He pauses briefly before stepping out, hoping to avoid notice, but a group of students coming off the train block him from view for a few moments as they stand around just a few steps away.</p><p>     Quick as he can, he grabs his trunk and starts to try to single handedly drag it up. “Need a hand?”</p><p>     Harry looks over his shoulder to find a tall, lanky redhead. “Oh, uh, yeah. That’d be great.”</p><p>     The redhead looks back down the train and yells out, “Oy! Oy, Fred! C’mere and help!” Looking back at Harry, the boy waved him away before coming around to grab one end of the trunk. When another, identical redhead appears, he grabs the other without question and the two lift the trunk onto the train. </p><p>     Harry quickly follows, directing them over to the right compartment. There’s an eyebrow raised at seeing the crest on the trunks already there, but they simply lift Harry’s trunk before nodding at him. </p><p>     “There you go, firstie. All set.”</p><p>     “Thanks,” Harry replies, pushing his glasses up. </p><p>     He stands out of their way to allow them to leave the compartment, debating on whether to introduce himself or not. Before he can decide, one of them seems to take a closer look, hitting the other’s arm suddenly. “Hey, is that a scar? You wouldn’t happen to be--”</p><p>     “Harry!” </p><p>     Harry turns around briefly to see Draco approaching, but his attention is drawn back to the twins as one says, “Well, we’ll be off then!”</p><p>     “Oh, okay, bye!”</p><p>     “The train will be leaving soon,” Draco tells Harry, eyes watching the twins leave for a moment before looking over at him. “I only saw a few of my friends, so I think they might be sitting with Pansy. I told her I was towards the front so she wouldn’t sit with us, but I think she told <em> them </em> the same, so they might be with her.”</p><p>     Harry frowns a little, thinking he doesn’t want to have to try to move his trunk. “Did you want to move over to where they are?” he asks.</p><p>     “Hm, no,” Draco responds after a moment’s consideration. “I’ll tell them I’m back here, see if <em> they </em> want to move. Do you want to come with me to find them?”</p><p>     “I think I’ll sit with Hedwig, I don’t think she’s used to all this activity yet.” It’s an excuse, when really Harry just doesn’t think he’s up for another group of people staring at him just yet, but when he looks over at his owl she seems to understand and starts flapping her wings and hooting loudly. “I should probably sit with her until she’s calmed down.”</p><p>     Draco shrugs. “Suit yourself. I’ll be back.”</p><p>     Harry closes the compartment door, goes and then sits down, reaching a finger into Hedwig’s cage to stroke her head. “Thanks.”</p><p>     She hoots at him once in reply before settling down. Harry turns to look out of the window, the panel above open so he can hear the sounds of the crowd of parents and students, many of them starting to say their goodbyes. The platform is starting to clear, an indication that they’ll be departing soon. A flash of red catches his eye, and he sees a group of redheads, only just visible as they stand a little ways down from his compartment</p><p>     He thinks for a moment it might be one of the twins, but decides what he can see of them isn’t quite right. This boy is shorter, though the hair is the right shade. The woman standing with him speaks up, and Harry can hear them clearly.</p><p>     “All right, Ron, you be sure to behave. Listen to Percy and, what’s that on your nose? Come here.”</p><p>     A younger boy jerks into view as he pulls away from the woman. “<em> Mom </em>, geroff!”</p><p>     The twins appear then, and with them standing together, Harry notes the resemblance. He listens to them joke and tease the younger boy, who grows obviously more annoyed and sullen with the teasing, and then yet <em> another </em> boy appears. He’s already changed into his robe with a badge on his chest, and the twins start to tease him about being a prefect as well. Harry thinks it’s rather nice, to come from a family close enough to tease like that, even if the twins’ siblings seem to be annoyed by it. The one already in his robes allowed their mother to kiss his cheek, said goodbye to someone outside of Harry’s line of sight, and then seemed to board again.</p><p>     That was when one of the twins said, “Oh, guess who we just met on the train, Mom?”</p><p>     “Who?”</p><p>     “<em>Harry Potter </em>!”</p><p>     The one out of sight suddenly piped up, and it sounded like a little girl, her voice carrying as she loudly begged to be allowed on the train to see him. Harry leaned away from the window then, hoping to stay out of sight. How embarrassing would it be to be caught eavesdropping on them as they started to talk about him? </p><p>     “No, Ginny, the train is about to leave. You can’t get on,” the boys’ mother responded, cutting off the little girl’s begging. “Are you sure, Fred?”</p><p>     “Pretty sure,” was the response. “Saw a bit of a scar on his forehead. Malfoy’s kid called him ‘Harry’, too.”</p><p>     “<em>Malfoy </em>?” The way the woman said the name made Harry frown automatically, not wanting someone to say anything bad about his only friend. Then he remembered Lucius Malfoy’s smile and thought perhaps, if that’s who she was thinking of when she said it, the reaction might be warranted. “Are they friends, do you think?”</p><p>     “Who knows? Maybe they just met? Anyway, we should be getting on, Mum. We’ll know for sure during Sorting. Who knows? Maybe he’ll be a Gryffindor!”</p><p>     “Be sure to let me know,” she tells them. “Try to befriend him if he is, okay? Poor thing, being an orphan raised goodness knows where or with who, he could probably use all the friends he can get.” </p><p>     Harry decides to close the window, distinctly uncomfortable with hearing the obvious pity, and not particularly interested in hearing any more. Especially since the little girl starts to cry, half-pleading and half-demanding to be allowed to go with her brothers or at least be allowed to get on and see Harry. It sounds like the beginning of a tantrum, at least in his experience based on his cousin’s tried and true methods, so he is relieved that closing the window prevents him from hearing the rest of it. </p><p>     What he is able to hear, loud and clear, is the train's whistle as it goes off to announce their departure. Outside, it looks like there are no more students on the platform, instead just a few parents and younger siblings, waving at students in other windows before leaving or waiting to see the train off. </p><p>     The door to the compartment opens as the train starts to move, and the youngest of the redheads is standing there. He’s taller than he appeared while standing outside, Harry notes absently. Ron, as they’d called him, starts to back out with an apology when he suddenly stops, staring at Harry.</p><p>     “Are you him?” he asks.</p><p>     Harry blinks at him for a moment, surprised. “Who?”</p><p>     “Harry Potter?”</p><p>     “Oh, him. I mean, yeah, that’s me.”</p><p>     His eyes go over to the trunks, and he frowns. Harry follows the direction he’s looking at and realizes it’s Draco’s trunks that have drawn that reaction. “I’m Ron Weasley. Are you really friends with the <em> Malfoys’ </em> kid?” Blue eyes lower again to meet Harry’s gaze. “You shouldn’t be, you know. Just warning ya, they’re-”</p><p>     “We’re what?” Behind Ron stands Draco, arms crossed, scowling.The redhead half turns, still standing in the compartment doorway. </p><p>     “Draco’s my friend,” Harry interrupts before either can say anything. “So can you step aside so he can come sit down?”</p><p>     Draco doesn’t wait for the other to obey, basically shoving him aside to come in and sit across from Harry. He gives him a smug look, crossing his arms as he waits to see what he’s going to do. He knows this kid’s type, trying to ingratiate himself with someone better than him. Clearly, he thinks, Harry can spot the type too.</p><p>     “Weasley, you said, right?” Draco drawls. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”</p><p>     The stubborn look that comes over the other’s face makes Harry think that this might turn into a bigger confrontation when one of the twins comes by. “There you are, Ron. Are you bothering people?”</p><p>     “Yes,” Draco announces instantly, frowning at seeing another redhead.</p><p>     “Really, Ron, can’t leave you alone for a second.” The other twin appears, grabbing the youngest sibling by looping an arm around his neck and dragging him back away from the door. “Come on, you. You’re with us; Mum’s orders.”</p><p>     “We didn’t introduce ourselves earlier,” says the remaining twin. “I’m Fred Weasley, that was George--” the other twin, clearly still within earshot yells a hello “--and that was our brother Ron. Our fault for telling him Harry Potter was here. He’s not used to meeting famous people. Consider him an overzealous fan.”</p><p>     Harry blushes at the reminder. “Uh, no, no worries. Nice to meet you. Thanks for the help earlier.”</p><p>     “No worries.” George waves a hand dismissively. “We’ll see you later. Oy, Fred! You just passed our compartment!” </p><p>     The compartment door is closed behind them, and Draco shakes his head. “Weasley, the youngest one, clearly wanted to be friends with you because you’re famous. Like I wrote you, you’ll run into those types all over. Who knows, maybe the twins were in on it too.”</p><p>     “You think?” Harry considers it for a moment then shrugs. “George and Fred seemed nice even before they knew who I was earlier. As for their brother, well, I just don’t like people talking about my friends. Or telling me what to do. If he wanted to be friends, he should’ve just said so.”</p><p>     Draco is surprised at Harry’s reasoning, and starts laughing. “You’re weird, you know that?”</p><p>     “What happened with your friends?” Harry asks when Draco’s done laughing.</p><p>     “Ah, I ran into Theodore. Pansy convinced them I’d be sitting with her so they sat in her compartment. I told him we’d be back here, but it’s fine. They were being rather loud anyway. And this way, we don’t have to worry about Crabbe and Goyle trying to steal any snacks we buy. They’re <em> always </em> hungry.”</p><p>     “Their names are Crabbe and Goyle?”</p><p>     “Family names,” Draco clarifies.</p><p>     “Why do you call some of them by their first name and some by their last?”</p><p>     “Ah, it’s considered polite to only address those you’re close with by their first name, and everyone else by their last name.”</p><p>     “Oh, so when I wrote you that first letter, it should have said ‘Malfoy’ instead of ‘Draco’?” Harry wonders aloud.</p><p>     Draco shrugs. “Well, yes, but it’s fine. I realized since you were raised with Muggles, you probably didn’t know any better.”</p><p>     “I think it’s less because I grew up with Muggles, and more that your family is super upper class,” Harry argues. “That sounds like the kind of rule rich people have.”</p><p>     “Hm, maybe.” Draco thinks it over, never having thought of it like that. “Although,” he points out after a moment, “didn’t your parents leave you a bunch of money? So you’re rich, too.”</p><p>     “Honestly, I still forget,” Harry admits. “I’ve never really had my own money to buy whatever.”</p><p>     There was a knock on the door and then a woman opened the compartment door with a dimpled smile asking if they wanted anything from the cart she was pushing. </p><p>     Draco grins. “Well, here’s your chance to spend some, then.”</p><p>     Harry jumps up, more than a little hungry after skipping breakfast, only to realize he wasn’t familiar with any of the snacks on offer. “Wow, I’ve never seen any of these.”</p><p>     “Are you joking?” Draco shakes his head, answering himself. “No, of course you’re not. We’ll just have to take some of everything then.”</p><p>     Harry insists on paying, and then dumps the giant load on the seat next to Draco, sitting on the same side so the snacks are piled between them. Draco insists on letting him have the box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, laughing loudly when Harry immediately eats a green one he’d assumed would be apple or lime flavored only for it to turn out to be grass. The Cauldron Cakes and Pumpkin Pasties are great follow-ups to recover from the strange jelly bean. When Harry opens a Chocolate Frog before Draco can explain it will jump, he’s so amused he opens a couple of the other ones, both of them laughing as the compartment is momentarily filled with half a dozen hopping frogs. All but one have stopped when the door opens and a round-faced boy is momentarily caught off guard when it suddenly jumps at him. </p><p>     “Trevor?” He pulls the treat off the front of his robe where it jumps and visibly deflates at seeing it’s just chocolate. “Oh, no. Have you seen a toad? I can’t find mine.”</p><p>     Harry shakes his head, smiling. “A toad? No. Sorry.” Draco shakes his head as well, and the boy leaves.</p><p>     Once he’s gone, Draco starts looking through the cards, showing them to Harry and explaining what they are when he realizes it’s yet another thing the Boy Who Lived knows nothing about. He’s highly amused at Harry’s surprise when, right before his eyes, Merlin stretches and then moves out of frame. But it’s Harry’s reaction to seeing the Albus Dumbledore, frowning down at it as he studies it, that piques Draco’s interest.</p><p>     “What is it?” </p><p>     Harry looks up at him, shrugging as he puts the card aside with the others he’d gotten. “Ah, no, I was just surprised. I’ve heard of Albus Dumbledore, but it’s the first I’m seeing of him.” Harry stops, wondering if he should explain the feeling of distrust that comes over him at hearing the name--and now <em> seeing </em>--Albus Dumbledore, but not quite sure how to explain himself. He has no frame of reference for what might be weird in the wizarding world, so he doesn’t know if this sense of déjà vu he gets is normal or not. “He’s older than I expected,” he finishes lamely.</p><p>     “He’s pretty famous too,” Draco informs him. “Father doesn’t like him.”</p><p>     Harry’s tempted to ask for more info but they’re once again interrupted by someone opening the door. The boy who’d asked about the toad is back, standing behind the girl who’d opened the door. She has brown skin, bushy brown hair, and brown eyes that look around the room, taking in both boys, the owl, and the pile of wrappers and uneaten snacks quickly before gazing back at the boys. When she speaks, her large front teeth stand out, and her tone is distinctively bossy, but something about her is so familiar that it takes Harry a moment to put together what she’s said. </p><p>     He is too busy realizing that the same sense he’d gotten from Draco back in Diagon Alley, that had prompted him to befriend him, is coming over him again twofold. Somehow, he knows that Draco might be his first friend, but <em> this </em> girl was going to be his <em> best </em> friend. He should probably look into why he gets these feelings at all.</p><p>     “Have either of you seen a toad? Neville’s lost one.”</p><p>     Draco sighs. “Harry already told him we haven’t. It’s just a <em> toad </em> anyway.”</p><p>     “Harry? As in Harry Potter?” the girl asks, eyes moving from Draco over to Harry. Blinking, Harry just nods. “I’m Hermione Granger and this is Neville Longbottom. I know all about you. You’re mentioned in our <em> History of Magic </em> book, of course, but I got some extra books for background reading and you’re in <em> Modern Magical History </em> and <em> The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts </em> , as well as <em> Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century </em>.”</p><p>     Harry stares, surprised, looks over at Draco who shrugs, then back at her. “Am I?” </p><p>     “Didn’t you know? I’d have learned all I could if it were me,” she announces.</p><p>     “Yes, well, it’s not. Shouldn’t you be off looking for a toad?” Draco reminds her. </p><p>     Hermione frowns at Draco. “No need to be rude. Who are you?”</p><p>     “Draco Malfoy. We need to change since we’ll likely arrive soon, so leave already,” Draco orders.</p><p>     “Draco.” Harry shakes his head at him, then looks back at Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom. “I’ll keep an eye out for the toad, but we haven’t seen ‘em.”</p><p>     “All right, thank you.” She starts to close the door, telling Neville, “Come on, let’s ask them down there.”</p><p>     “Longbottom’s family is one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight,” Draco says after they’ve left. “Granger, on the other hand, is probably <em> Muggle-born </em>. They really shouldn’t be letting any of them into Hogwarts, I think. Keep it in the old wizarding families.”</p><p>     “What?” Harry challenges. “Why does it matter?”</p><p>     Draco stares at him for a moment like he can’t believe he’s asking. “They’re just not the same! They’re not brought up to know our ways or anything.”</p><p>     “Neither have I,” Harry points out, then reminds his friend, “And my parents might have been a witch and wizard, but my <em> mum </em>was a Muggle-born. If she hadn’t been accepted at Hogwarts, my parents wouldn’t have met and I wouldn’t be here.”</p><p>     Draco is about to say something more to defend his point, but he closes his mouth with an audible click at this reminder. He wants to push back, make Harry understand why Muggle-borns just aren’t the same, but he can’t think of how to do so without sounding like he’s insulting Harry’s mother. If Harry got annoyed with Ron for seeming to insult Draco, a friend he’s only just made, chances are insulting his mum is a surefire way to make him angry. </p><p>     They change without exchanging another word, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Harry, wondering how he can get his friend to understand why his way of thinking is wrong. Draco, trying to think of a way to get through to Harry that pureblood witches and wizards are superior. It’s an awkward silence, and when they’ve finished changing, neither seems sure of what to say or how to change the subject. Finally, at a voice announcing they’re about to arrive and are to leave their luggage on the train, they decide to divvy up the remaining snacks and stuff them into their pockets. </p><p>     When the train stops, they shuffle out into the corridor and make their way onto the platform outside. The night is cooler here, farther up in the north, and Harry hopes they aren’t going to be outside for long. It’s with relief that he recognizes the booming voice calling for first years. When Hagrid spots him and greets him, Harry’s mood is instantly lifted. </p><p>     Draco is standing next to him still, and by the way he’s looking around Harry thinks he might be trying to find his other friends. He wonders if their brief friendship is due to be over already. Still, Harry nudges him and nods his head towards Hagrid and the lamp he’s holding as he calls the first years over before heading over. He doesn’t want Draco to think he doesn’t want to be friends anymore, but he also doesn’t know if now that he’s been reminded that Harry’s parentage isn’t as “pure” as his own, if he’ll want to stay friends. All he can do is act like he normally would and leave Draco to make his own choice. </p><p>     Hagrid leads them all down through a slippery dark path down to the edge of a large lake where they all get a glimpse of the castle for the first time. He gives them all a moment before announcing they’re to get into boats, keeping to 4 per boat, and he waves Harry over clearly to join him. When he reaches Hagrid, he’s holding up a toad he’s just found. Neville Longottom cries out the toad’s name, rushing forward to claim the animal, and Hermione Granger comes following after him at a slower pace. It’s clear they’re going to also join Hagrid’s boat, and so Harry assumes even if he’d been inclined to join, chances are Draco will take one look at who else is there and opt to sit with his friends instead.</p><p>     It seems all the more certain when after getting in the boat, Harry spots Ron Weasley making a beeline for their boat to claim the last spot.</p><p>     So he’s surprised when Draco materializes in front of him, climbing in and muttering, “Mark my words, Potter. Longbottom is going to let that toad go and knock us all in the water trying to catch him.”</p><p>     “Hope you know how to swim then, Malfoy,” Harry answers with a grin.</p><p>     Then they’re off across the lake, making their way towards the glittering castle on the other side.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Title is from a Pink Floyd song. </p><p>No other notes. I need sleep. Going to pass out now, kthxbye.</p><p>ETA: Wait! One note! Yes, Hermione is black. I will share some of my fave black Hermione fan art on the tumblr soon, 'cause they're pretty much how I imagine her to look. Okay, sleep now.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter Five: This Is My Now</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sorting Ceremony</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>No one seemed to notice after the last chapter, but I’ma call myself out. I forgot in canon, Hagrid rides his own boat. Ah well, keeping that mistake ‘cause it suits my purposes, lol. I went back and changed the formatting in the letters and in the paragraphs, although I think I didn’t put as much space between paragraphs as in previous chapters? Idk, I'm tired and don't feel like checking. </p><p>I'm not going to space this one either out of laziness. Let me know if it's harder to read like this, though, and I'll go back to adding the spaces.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>THE ride to the castle is not as eventful as Draco predicted, despite the slight delay caused when Ron Weasley loudly complains that Draco took his spot and Hagrid, realizing that all other boats already have four students, redirects him to be the fifth in the next boat over. Harry is too busy admiring the sight of the giant castle before them, with what looks like every visible window lit up against the night sky, to pay Weasley much mind. He understands now what someone means when they say something is breathtaking, because he’s sure he stopped breathing for a moment when he first saw it, and isn’t sure he’s quite managed to catch his breath as the boats take off across the lake.  </span>
</p><p><span>    He’s not the only one fascinated. There is silence except for the sound of water lapping against the magically propelled boats as their journey starts, with whispers only starting up when they’re about halfway across. Their boat is in the lead, but the fleet of boats--which Hagrid informs them is nineteen out of the school’s total of thirty-six--are close enough that the voices of one carry over to the occupants of those closest.</span> <span>Granted, Harry thinks, it’s possible that it only seems that way because Ron Weasley, in the boat just behind theirs on the left, is loudly complaining about Draco Malfoy having shoved him out of the way when he was going to sit with Harry Potter. A blatant lie that Draco scoffs at, but doesn’t deem to try to refute from this distance.</span></p><p>
  <span>     When they disembark on the other side of the lake, they are on a landing stage slightly sheltered by rock formations. Hagrid looks them over, making Draco smile at Harry knowingly when he picks Neville’s frog up from their boat and hands the animal back to him, reminding him to hold onto it this time. Then, when he’s sure that no student has been lost, he leads them up some stone steps. Harry thinks this must have been a cave at some point, rocky walls closing in slightly on either side with lanterns alternating from one side to the other to light their way, and he thinks it’s a good thing he’s not claustrophobic as the shadows they cast on the ceiling make it almost look like it’s moving down closer to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     At the top of the stairs is a stone landing, similar to the one below they’d stood on after getting out of the boats, but the bright lanterns on either side of the door make the design on it clearly visible. The stones are gray, with a darker one used to create a capital letter H. The door before them, a large, sturdy-looking wooden door with metal bands across it and a small little hatch in the door. When Hagrid pounds his fist heavily against the wood, Harry expects it to open and a face to peer out, but instead the door opens completely, light flooding out from inside, and standing there is none other than the dark-haired witch, Professor McGonagall, in emerald green robes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Evenin’, Professor,” Hagrid greets. “Got yer first years here, all seventy-seven of ‘em.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Thank you, Hagrid. Come along then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     They shuffle in after her and find themselves now in a brightly lit room. There’s a large rug covering most of the stone floor, and directly across the door they come in through is a large fireplace, with an equally large fire lit and blazing within. It makes the room pleasantly warm after the cool air they were just in. There are two long tapestries on either side of the fireplace, totaling four, each of them in different colors and with an animal displayed prominently in its center around a letter. To the left are some benches along the way, and some portraits of landscapes above them. To the right is a door, which is where McGonagall walks to as she waits for them to all come into the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Harry goes over in her direction after a brief glance around the room. “Hello, Professor,” he greets, a little shy. He’s never really been close to a teacher before, but while he doesn’t want his new classmates to think he’s a teacher’s pet, he rather likes the woman who helped ensure he could attend school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Mr. Potter.” She addresses him formally, but she gives him a small smile, which negates her stern tone and her previously stern demeanor. “I see you made it onto the train all right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Harry nods, and almost goes on to tell her about being moved into the smallest bedroom upstairs, but Hagrid closes the door then, signaling that all the students are inside. The big man makes his way around the students and out of the room through the door they are near, and Harry realizes this conversation will have to wait as the older witch clears her throat to draw the attention of all the students. Once all eyes are on her, she speaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” she begins. “The term officially begins with a start-of-term banquet attended by the entire school, which you will be joining shortly over in the Great Hall. Before you can take your seats, however, you will be sorted into one of the four Hogwarts houses.” She gestures over towards the tapestries hanging on the wall by the fireplace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each has its own noble history and has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are students here, your house will be like your family within Hogwarts. You will sleep in your house dormitory, study and spend free time in your house common room, and most, if not all, of your classes will be with the rest of your housemates. You will also work together with your house to earn points for your house. Your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose your house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to your house, whichever it may be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Now, the Sorting Ceremony will take place in front of the whole school, so I suggest you all smarten yourselves up while you wait.” She runs a critical eye over them, pausing here and there on specific students. “Now wait quietly while I check to see if they are ready yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Without another word, she leaves through the same door Hagrid left, and voices erupt in her wake. Students asking each other what house they think they’ll join, and what the Sorting might entail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Harry.” He turns to see Draco just off to the side with a group that seems to already know each other, waving him over. Harry goes over to the group, which consists of two girls and three boys besides Draco, assuming that these are the friends he previously mentioned. Sure enough, once he’s reached them, Draco says, “These are the friends I mentioned earlier. Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabb, Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, and Millicent Bulstrode. Guys, this is Harry Potter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Others nearby hear the name and there’s a ripple effect through the room as it’s whispered back and forth. Harry tries to ignore it as he greets Draco’s friends. “Hi, nice to meet you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Theodore Nott replies in kind, but he’s the only one. Pansy Parkinson leans into Millicent, saying in a loud whisper, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>The</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry Potter, huh? Somehow not as impressive as the stories would have us believe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Harry feels his face grow warm while Draco scowls at her, but before either can respond, there’s a collection of gasps and a few screams. Looking around, they see what has startled some of the others, as a group of almost two dozen ghosts have come streaming through one wall. They’re just far enough that Harry can’t make out any conversations until a ghost in tights and ruff notices the students below them and asks what they’re all doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “New students!” The answer comes from the ghost the first had been speaking with, a pleasant looking, chubby man dressed in a long corded tunic robe of some sort. Harry isn’t sure what it’s called, but he’s certain the man is a friar of some sort. “I believe they’re waiting to be Sorted, yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Various students nod. Harry looks over at Draco, and he hopes this isn’t a stupid question because it didn’t occur to him until now, but he wants to ask before McGonagall comes back. “How are they going to sort us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Honestly? Don’t know,” Draco admits with a shrug. “Mother and Father wouldn’t say. It’s tradition to go in not knowing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “My brother Fred said it hurts.” They turn to see Ron Weasley, who’s clearly been eavesdropping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “H-Hurts?” Neville Longbottom, using one hand to try to fix his robe which is fastened under one ear, stares at Ron wide-eyed. His grip on his toad goes slack and he almost loses it before Hermione Granger nudges him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I doubt it,” she responds once Nevile has regained hold on the toad. “It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a school, after all. They aren’t going to let us get </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Okay, Miss Know-It-All, what do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> think it is?” Ron grumbles at her, glaring. “Since you know more than me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     She frowns at him. “I am just saying, it is highly unlikely that a </span>
  <em>
    <span>school</span>
  </em>
  <span> is going to purposely allow students to get hurt for, what, dorm assignments?” Neville next to her visibly relaxes, and there are a few murmurs of agreement. Ron’s face goes a little pink. “Now it doesn’t say in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hogwarts, A History</span>
  </em>
  <span> what the Sorting entails, but I imagine it’s more likely a test of some sort.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Oh, ‘it doesn’t say in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hogwarts, A History</span>
  </em>
  <span>’,” he mocks, pitching his voice higher and causing a few kids to snicker. “That’s not even one of our textbooks. What kind of nerd does extra reading before school?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Her darker skin doesn’t visibly change colors, but the way Hermione presses her lips together and crosses her arms reads to Harry clear as day as if she’s embarrassed. She doesn’t respond though, and Harry is annoyed with Ron Weasley all over again. He thinks of all the times he was bullied by Dudley in front of other students just before teachers came back, or in front of his aunt and uncle, leaving Harry unable to defend himself or talk back, and he decides he’s not putting up with it here. Even if the bullying isn’t directed at himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Just because </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>can’t read doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t enjoy it.” Both Hermione and Ron look over at him in surprise, though Ron’s face turns a shade of red that almost matches his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Then, to avoid getting caught in a confrontation on the first day by Professor McGonagall and because Neville was struggling one handed to fix his robe before he froze to watch the back and forth between Hermione and Ron, he goes over to him. “Want me to hold Trevor while you fix your robe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Oh, yes, please. Thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Neville hands the toad over and adjusts his robes, just in time for McGonagall to return. She calls for them to get in a line and follow her, turning to lead them out. Hermione hurries to do as she’s told, very clearly trying to put distance between herself and Ron Weasley. Neville takes his toad back with another muttered thank you, hurrying to get in line as well. Harry follows suit so that Neville is in front of him, with Draco at his rear. They’re led across the large Entrance Hall, so big that he’s certain the entirety of the Dursleys’ house could fit in there, and the ceiling so far above that he can’t make it out despite the many flaming torches lighting up the room. They pass massive double doors to their right and a grand marble staircase to the left, towards another set of double doors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     There’s the dull roar of hundreds of voices on the other side of those doors, which grows steadily louder as they approach, and Harry swallows nervously as his mouth suddenly goes dry. What if it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a test? He read through the books, but it’s not as if he could practice any of the spells, and he’s never been good at instantly memorizing stuff. He’s always been a hand on learner, needing to put whatever was being taught to him into practice to really grasp it. How embarrassing if he fails out of the school before he’s even started? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The doors are thrown open and the voices die down to a silence as all eyes turn to look at the line of students being led inside. They walk between the center two out of four long tables, that start a few feet from the entrance and down across the large room almost towards the other end, from what Harry can see. He tries to not make eye contact with the students on either side of him, so instead he draws his attention up to the floating candles and the night sky above, half listening as Hermione explains to Neville that she’d read it’s enchanted to look like the sky outside. He thinks maybe he read that, but isn’t sure, and is tempted to ask how many times she’d read her books or if, unlike him, she has the kind of memory that allows her to read something once and just remember it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “What is </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Draco’s question makes Harry look down, and he sees that they’re approaching a platform that is shaped in a half circle. There’s a single step to get up onto the platform, and then there’s a stool set in the center, with a battered looking witches’ hat. Behind that is another two steps leading up onto a slightly higher platform where a table runs from Harry’s left to his right. There, a long line of adults are seated, and he realizes these must be the school’s teachers and staff. Before he can find Professor Snape to wave, he finds a pair of twinkling blue eyes staring at him, and he recognizes the face from his Chocolate Frog Cards. The headmaster is literally watching him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Unintendedly, he stops in the spot as he’s overwhelmed with the most powerful feeling of mistrust he’s ever felt, and a voice seems to scream in his mind, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Do </span>
  </em>
  <span>not</span>
  <em>
    <span> trust Albus Dumbledore!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     Then Draco walks into him, not having noticed what he’d stopped, and they almost fall over. Harry quickly apologizes, face red, and hurries forward as McGonagall directs them all to line up between the professors’ table and the stool so they’re facing the rest of the school. Once they’re all lined up, they stand there for a moment, nothing happening until the hat suddenly begins to sing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Harry’s eyes go wide and he is able to momentarily forget the headmaster behind him, astonished at this turn of events. Getting Sorted by a magic hat is better than anything else he’d imagined, and he’s immensely relieved. He claps along with everyone else when it finishes, and then listens as the first couple of names are called and students begin being sorted into the different houses. It isn’t until after each house has received one student that Harry remembers that he and Draco might not be in the same houses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Draco,” he whispers, turning to the other boy. Draco looks over at where McGonagall is standing, holding a long roll of parchment from which she is reading students’ names, and then back at Harry, a single eyebrow raised in question. “Remember, if we’re in different houses, we’ll still be friends, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Draco blinks at him surprised. Hadn’t Harry asked him that right after they met, when they were first discussing the houses? Draco still isn’t convinced that it’s possible for them to stay friends, but he figures it won’t hurt for them to </span>
  <em>
    <span>try</span>
  </em>
  <span> at least. So he nods. “Sure, but don’t be mad when my house gets more points than yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Harry just grins in response, looking back at the students being sorted in time to see Hermione Granger is still sitting on the stool. He wonders if it’s normal for it to take this longer before she finally gets sorted into Gryffindor. His parents’ house. It would be nice, he thinks for what must be the hundredth time, to be in the house they were in, and get to see some of the places they once spent time in. There probably weren’t any traces of them or anything, but it’d be one more thing he would have in common with them. Plus, he would already know his Head of House with Professor McGonagall, whom he already knew he could trust. The only other professor he felt that way about right now was Professor Snape. Granted, if he ended up in Snape’s house, Slytherin, that might not be so bad either. Draco was sure he’d be in that house, so at least he’d have a friend there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Neville Longbottom also ends up in Gryffindor house after slightly longer with the hat than most other students, and he grins happily as he goes to join them. When it is Draco’s turn, the hat is set on his head and there is a few seconds of silence before he is, as he’d predicted, announced as the next Slytherin. Harry is happy for him, knowing that is the house Draco wanted, though it’s tinged with a bit of disappointment that he wasn’t last minute put in Gryffindor, like he himself hopes to be. Then he waits for his own turn to come. He tries to ignore the irrational fear that he won’t be Sorted at all, thinking it is just his nerves, but it isn’t easy. He still thinks it’s been too many good things after another, so surely the other shoe will drop soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     When Professor McGonagall finally calls, “Harry Potter,” the room is overtaken by a deafening silence. He’s actually tempted to stick a finger in his ear to see if something is suddenly blocking all sound, because it’s such a drastic change. Instead, he takes a few slow steps forward, hoping he doesn’t do something embarrassing like fall flat on his face as he’s acutely aware of every eye in the room being directed in his direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     He’s actually a little relieved to finally reach the stool and have the hat placed on his head, as it falls down and covers his eyes so he can no longer see all those faces staring at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>     Well, well, what do we have here? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Harry startles, although after the singing, he’s not sure why the hat speaking comes as a surprise. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Strange…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     Suddenly, Harry’s certain the hat is going to tell him he doesn’t belong, and he feels his heart drop. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Great</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I really </span>
  </em>
  <span>don’t</span>
  <em>
    <span> belong here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>     Oh, but you do</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the hat contradicts, surprising Harry again because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span> it can read his mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Plenty of talent here, good head on your shoulders, and quite a bit of courage, with such a thirst to prove yourself. Yes, no question, you belong here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>     Then what is strange?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry asks, curious now that the hat has assuaged his fears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The hat is quiet for a moment, as if it’s searching or perhaps deciding how to explain. Then, it says, </span>
  <em>
    <span>There is magic here unlike any I have seen in all my time, and I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>quite</span>
  <em>
    <span> old. Yes, strange, varying magics are at work in you. How very intriguing you are, Mr. Potter. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Harry wants to ask more, try to understand what the hat is telling him, but the hat moves on, asking,</span>
  <em>
    <span> So where shall I put you?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>     Harry frowns in response, wondering that question himself. He has no real feelings towards being put in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. Based on the hat’s song, he thinks he’s loyal enough for the former and maybe not smart enough for the latter, but he’s indifferent to either. He hasn’t met anyone interested in either, or made friends among those already sorted into it yet, so it’s hard to muster any enthusiasm besides it meaning he will remain at Hogwarts so long as he’s sorted </span>
  <em>
    <span>somewhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Gryffindor, though, has most of the few people he’s met and liked thus far, besides his emotional connection to it. But Draco is now in Slytherin.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>     So Gryffindor or Slytherin, eh? Any of the Hogwarts houses could help you on your way to greatness, I’m sure, but these two especially.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>     Then where are you putting me?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>     I’m rather partial to Slytherin for you, but where would you </span>
  </em>
  <span>like </span>
  <em>
    <span>to be</span>
  </em>
  <span>? The hat counters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     If those watching could see his face, they’d see Harry blinking in confusion and surprise. Instead, he blinks at the inside of the hat, not having expected the question. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m not sure. I mean, Gryffindor, I think? It’s just, I’ve a friend in Slytherin. He said those houses are rivals.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>     Hm</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The hat is quiet for only a moment, before it says, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Their founders Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin were rivals </span>
  </em>
  <span>and</span>
  <em>
    <span> friends, you know. For a very long time.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>     Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>. If the founders themselves could be both rivals and friends, surely Harry and Draco could manage that too, right? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gryffindor then</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>     You’re certain? Won’t have any regrets? Then off you go, to </span>
  </em>
  <span>“GRYFFINDOR!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Professor McGonagall removes the hat, and Harry blinks at the brightness of the room as he stands. The table on the far left has erupted into cheers, with many of them standing and clapping, and the Weasley twins chanting, “We got Potter!” repeatedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Harry makes his way over, noticing as he does that the rest of the hall is staring at him still as the next student is called to be Sorted. His face warms, and he wonders if he’ll ever get used to the attention as a boy with a badge comes over to shake his hand. His red hair is such a distinctive, familiar shade that he’s not at all surprised to learn this is another Weasley, and in fact the one he’d heard speaking with the woman at the station.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Harry Potter! Welcome to Gryffindor. I’m Percy Weasley, one of the Gryffindor prefects. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Such</span>
  </em>
  <span> a pleasure to have you join our house!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “We got Potter! We got Potter!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Percy lets out a long suffering sigh before he turns and hisses at the twins, “Stop it! Do you want us to be the first to lose house points?” He shakes his head, then motions for Harry to follow him back to where he’d been sitting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Harry sits to Percy’s right, returning Neville’s shy smile and wave with a nod. Hermione is sitting on Percy’s other side, shaking her head at the twins who were still chanting a few seats further down, although they’d brought their volume down. Presumably to avoid notice from the teachers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I wish people would stop staring,” Harry mutters, noting as he takes a seat that people are still looking over in his direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Neville, sitting across from him, replies, “Well, y-you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>Harry Potter</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You’re famous, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Well, that, and you’re the first hatstall in years,” Percy adds, taking a seat to Harry’s left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “A what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Hatstall. It’s what it’s called when the hat takes a while to place you.” Percy motions towards the hat where someone is almost instantly sorted into Ravenclaw. “Most people only take a minute or two. You three,” he motions to Harry, Neville, and Hermione, “took longer than most, but it’s only a hatstall if it’s more than five minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Was it really that long?” Harry asks, surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “It doesn’t feel that long in the moment,” Hermione muses. Neville nods his head in agreement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     They watch the rest of the students get sorted, cheering whenever another Gryffindor is added to their ranks. If Harry’s cheering is a little less enthusiastic when the youngest Weasley also becomes a Gryffindor, he doubts anyone notices over the brothers’ loud cheers. Percy gets up again specifically to congratulate him and then comes back, his brother in tow. Harry, seeing that the free seats are on either side of where he currently is, moves to his left to take the one Percy had previously been occupying. Hopefully, the older boy won’t think anything of it except that Harry is trying to be considerate, and not hoping to avoid sitting next to his younger brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Luck is with him in that although he doesn’t know what Percy thinks about the switch, not only does he not bring it up, but he takes Harry’s previous seat, leaving Ron to take the second one on his other side, so at least they’re separated. It has the added bonus, Harry thinks, to put him farther away from Hermione, who Harry thinks likely doesn’t want to risk another confrontation over dinner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The room quieted as the old headmaster stood up to welcome them all, saying a few gibberish words and sitting back down to applause and cheers. Harry doesn’t pretend to join in this time, frowning at the old headmaster. He doesn’t see Draco across the hall giving him the same raised eyebrow he had on the train, curiosity piqued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     In any case, soon his and all the other students’ attention is drawn down to the tables as the golden place settings magically fill with food. He’s astonished, having never seen so much food in one place in all his life. Best of all, for only the second time in his life, he could eat to his heart’s content and no one would stop him or take the best for themselves, as his cousin often had. He filled his food with some of nearly everything on offer, and Harry is sure after a few bites that he has never had anything so good before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     While they eat, talk revolves around questions from younger students to the older regarding classes or when the first Quidditch match will take place. Some discuss how happy or surprised their parents will be about their Sorting, which draws attention to the three seated near each out who had taken the longest to be Sorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “What took the Sorting Hat so long to place you?” Ron asked, leaning around Percy to address Harry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     He shrugs but Neville responds with another question himself. “Was the hat trying to convince you too? Thought I’d end up in Hufflepuff, but it insisted. Gran will be really happy about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “It was between here and Ravenclaw for me,” Hermione informs them, though she doesn’t look over in Ron’s direction as she answers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “What about you, Harry?” Neville asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Slytherin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Percy looks at him in surprise. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Slytherin</span>
  </em>
  <span>? That, uh, well a bit of a surprise, really.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “How come?” Harry asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You-Know-Who</span>
  </em>
  <span> was a Slytherin, s’why,” Ron offers, mouth full of food. “So were a bunch of his followers.” Ron looks directly at Harry. “Including </span>
  <em>
    <span>Malfoy’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> dad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “He was found to be innocent and under the Imperius Curse,” Percy reminds his brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Ron gives him an incredulous look. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dad</span>
  </em>
  <span> thinks that’s a lie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Yes, well, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ministry</span>
  </em>
  <span> doesn’t,” Percy rebutts, mouth a thin line of disapproval. “So you would do well not to spread rumors about the Malfoys."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Harry puts away this bit of information, but refuses to give Ron the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, he pointedly ignores him, turning back to his food. He’ll think about what he’s just learned and decide what, if any of it, to bring up with Draco later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Talk then turns to their families. Neville tells them all to laughter about his uncle trying to get him to do magic, although Hermione gasps when he tells them he was dropped out of a window. Seamus Finnegan takes over then, causing more laughter when he explains the shock his father received the first time his son performed accidental magic, as it led to finding out his wife had secretly been a witch the whole time. Many others have parents who are both witches and wizards, so they’d expected coming to Hogwarts, while others had been caught completely off-guard like Hermione, whose parents were both Muggle. Harry admits he was raised with Muggles himself, and therefore hadn’t a clue about being a wizard, much less famous, prior to receiving his Hogwarts letters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Many are surprised by this new and Harry, realizing he doesn’t want to answer any additional questions about his Muggle relatives or the parents he doesn’t remember, turns to Percy and asks about what they might expect from their first day. Percy is more than happy to tell them all about the things they’ll learn first year, his enthusiasm matched only by Hermione, so that Harry is drawn into talk of classes and schoolwork. It effectively makes everyone else lose interest in being a part of Harry’s conversation for the moment, and although he’s not nearly as keen on what Percy is telling them as Hermione clearly is, he nevertheless finds himself looking forward to getting to learn real magic for himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     It is while Percy is telling them about starting off small in Transfiguration with their Head of House, Professor McGonagall, that Harry happens to glance over towards the High Table. At some point, the stool and the Sorting Hat were removed. On the closest end is Hagrid, drinking from a goblet, with Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore speaking to each other somewhere around the middle. Further down he sees Professor Snape, speaking with a man wearing a purple turban, whose back is currently to Harry. He wonders if it might be the same turbaned gentleman from Diagon Alley he’d seen Snape speaking to, but he isn’t sure just how common turbans are in the wizarding world to say how likely that might be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Just then, Snape looks over and catches his eye. He nods his head towards Harry, who lifts a hand to wave when there’s a sudden pain in his forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Ouch!” He presses his hand against his forehead, surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Are you all right?” Percy asks while Hermione tilts her head to peer at Harry’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Oh, uh, yes. Yes, I’m fine,” Harry assures them, the pain in his scar already fading.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Is it your scar? Does it often hurt?” Hermione’s gaze is curious as it runs over his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “No, actually. Never,” Harry admits. Which is true. It’s never once, in all his life, bothered him. “Say Percy, who is that speaking with Professor Snape?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “You know Snape, do you? Let’s see.” Percy runs his gaze along the High Table until he spots the purple turban, just as the man turns allowing them to better see his face. “Ah, that man would be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The desserts disappear from the table then, and the room quiets as Professor Dumbledore stands up. He addresses the room to inform them of a few start-of-term notices, of which were included the information that the forests on the ground as well as the right side of the third floor corridor were forbidden to students, the latter coming with the warning of a gruesome death for any who did not heed the warning. Percy mutters about this being news to him, noting that the prefects should have been informed, just as the headmaster has them all sing the school song to whatever tune pleases them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     At no point does the man ever directly look at him, as far as Harry can tell, but somehow, he’s sure that the man is still watching him. It’s an unnerving feeling, and he’s glad when the Weasley twins finally finish their funeral dirge version of the school song and they’re dismissed to go to their houses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Already, Harry has so much to think about, and classes haven’t even started yet. He thinks he’ll definitely need to get some sleep if he’s to be prepared for what tomorrow will bring.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter title is a Jordan Sparks song. </p><p>It likely won’t actually come into play in a way that matters, at least not anytime soon (I don’t think), but yes. I have added students to Harry’s year, hence all the boats. More details about that to come in the update post for this chapter on writingmyselfout.tumblr.com, if you’re interested in those sort of BTS details.</p><p>BUT, guess whose computer is finally up and running?! I am very happy with it, although I keep finding things I forgot to consider (monitor has no built-in speakers, need speakers or a headset, d'oh). I might celebrate by writing an extra chapter this week, if work the next two days doesn't kick my butt. We'll see how it goes. </p><p>Finally, yes, I do know that Harry originally was not a true hatstall, but this conversation IS longer than that one was and it suited the way I wanted those conversations to go.</p><p>~~~<br/>ETA: So Kimberly_T wanted to know more about why I expanded the number of first years, so I'm copying the explanation over. If you're not interested, you can skip the rest of this.  :)</p><p>Did you know that in canon, Harry’s WHOLE YEAR consists of only 40 students? FORTY! In a school that averages 1k students per year. And this is a prime example of the writer adding information about canon after the fact that contradicts or makes no sense with other info that she has previously given, either within the work itself or in other places.</p><p>Here’s the thing, that makes no sense. Every school year would need to average about 142 - 144 students to maintain a 1k overall average student population. Furthermore, the fan theories that his year is a result of the war going on when they were born doesn’t hold up. </p><p>World War II showed (depending on the studies you look at) a birth rate drop of about 49% - 54% (if I’m remembering the exact numbers correctly, but it’s around there). JK’s numbers would indicate a drop down to 28%. TWENTY-EIGHT PERCENT. And that just doesn’t track for known war-time statistics, and let’s face it, the First Wizarding War (FWW from here on forward) would not have had the mortality rate of WWII.</p><p>Frankly, the FWW did not have soldiers leaving their countries to go to battlefields, so no reason for couples to refrain from having children or distance to prevent that from happening. The FWW also, by all accounts, seems to have occurred primarily within the UK, though its affects were starting to be felt elsewhere, so you don’t have the populations of multiple countries being affected. What was to stop foreign witches/wizards from moving to the UK and their children from attending Hogwarts? </p><p>Besides, the FWW started as violent attacks on Muggles and Muggle-borns specifically, and I’ve always assumed (and that is how it will be treated in this fic) that it was like a series of terrorist attacks, escalating as Voldemort’s influence and ambition to take on the Ministry directly grew. Especially considering Lucius was basically a spy to provide Ministry information when he started out.</p><p>Anyway, all this to say that even being generous and saying the birth rate dropped about the same, you’d still be looking at a student count in the mid-70s range. So that’s where I put it. To be exact, Harry’s school year in BICNSFD has 76 students, including Harry himself. For now, only the original 40 are named, and that will likely be the case unless I need to fill out a class or something. I don’t anticipate any OCs to be of any importance in this story/series.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter Six: Just As Well Be Blind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A conversation.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TWO THINGS! First of all, I know this is much shorter than my usual updates, but it's really a bonus mid-week post as a thank you than the actual regular update. The usual, longer chapter will still go up sometime Sunday. I'd say sooner, but trying to figure out the different houses' class schedules is turning out to be a bigger pain than I anticipated since canon info is a hot mess. </p><p>Second, and on a more serious note, I love reading your comments. However, I am not here for being told what and how to write. Comments are a place for the readers to engage with me, and each other, and they're filtered so I can keep the nastier stuff from showing up at all. I've only gotten a few, but really, I shouldn't be getting any. And Hermione's barely been in this, so once her role grows, I suspect it will be worse.</p><p>This is an AU. It is not a commission I'm being paid to write to someone's specifications, so my only obligation on this is to myself. If you do not like the changes I'm making, that's fine. It happens. Plenty of other stuff to read. Sorry mine isn't to your tastes. If the problem is Hermione being black, that is wholly and entirely a YOU problem, and I don't need you to complain to me about why you don't want to read about a black character. I do not care. At all. It is not up for debate.</p><p>The rest of you are LOVELY and WONDERFUL and sorry for the rant. On to the chapter, and the discussion I'm sure more than a few were anticipating.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>MINERVA McGonagall is not at all surprised when during dinner, Albus asks her if she would join him for tea in his office later. She doesn’t need him to expand into the reasoning why, only agrees once she’s ensured that her prefects have the first years well in hand, she will join him. They discuss the upcoming school year briefly, he mentions some new ordinances the Board of Governors were considering, and just general things, but all the while she knows what he wants to discuss is one of her newest lions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Once the students are dismissed, she goes to her Gryffindors, instructing the prefects to lead the first years up. She stands in the Great Hall as the students disperse, going off to find their own houses, and is equally unsurprised when Severus Snape comes to stand at her side. Neither says a word until the last of his Slytherins has gone down the hall leading to the dungeons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Mr. Potter has followed in his father’s footsteps,” is the first comment from the Potions Master.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “And his mother’s,” she reminds him. “Albus wishes me to join him for tea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Snape looks over at her. “To discuss the boy, no doubt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     She nods her head in agreement. “Almost certainly.” She starts to head for the stairs, and he follows. “He and Draco Malfoy seem to have remained friends. I thought he might end up in your house after all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Yes, well it may have been better for their friendship if he had,” Snape replies. “We both know they’re unlikely to remain friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “You’re too much of a pessimist, Severus,” she admonishes. “They might surprise you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     He looks unconvinced, but changes the subject. “Have you spoken with him about the stone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Yes.” McGonagall’s frown makes it perfectly clear how that discussion went.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Snape notes it, and adds, “I take it he is determined to keep it here at the school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “He isn’t entirely wrong; it’s likely safer here than anywhere else,” she concedes. “But I’m not keen on the idea of bringing something to a </span>
  <em>
    <span>school</span>
  </em>
  <span> that is likely to attract dangers that might harm the students.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Snape’s reasoning is different. For him, it’s just stupid to try to protect something that they would be better served to just destroy. It is the more logical solution, in his mind, and would save them all the trouble of having to worry about safeguards at all. He doesn’t share that, though, knowing the deputy headmistress is a true educator, through and through, whose students would always come first for her. He doesn’t quite share that passion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Yes, well, the man rarely thinks himself wrong,” he says instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “That’s the problem with rarely being wrong. You don’t recognize when you are.” They reach the gargoyle statue on the third floor that guards the entrance to the headmaster’s office and McGonagall gives it the newest password. “Curly Wurly.” The statue jumps aside, revealing the moving staircase up to the headmaster’s office, and McGonagall turns to her colleague. “Care to join us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Snape shakes his head. “No, but I admit to some curiosity. Let me know what happens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     She nods her head in agreement then bids him goodnight as she heads up the stairs. She enters the circular room, eyes moving as they always do over the tables about. McGonagall recognizes the Pensieve tucked away in a recess between shelves of books. There is an identical recess on the other side of the room between more shelves, this one with a moon globe. The nearest window to that has a table next to it with a lunascope atop its surface, and some papers. The rest of the tables, of which there are probably about a half dozen or so in varying sizes, hold various silver instruments, many of which are constantly spinning or emitting the occasional puff of smoke, and almost all of them unrecognizable to McGonagall. She assumes more are for show than anything. Granted, Dumbledore knows many people, so perhaps some were inventions he’d been gifted or older magical items generally no longer in use, but her curiosity only goes so far as to wonder the point of having them, as she has yet to ever see him actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>use</span>
  </em>
  <span> any.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     The man himself is standing at his desk, a pleasant smile on his face as she meets his gaze and he motions for her to take a seat across from him. There is a cup of tea waiting for her, steaming rising gently from it as she takes a seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Thank you.” She picks the cup up, sniffs the pleasant aroma and takes a sip. She doesn’t say anything, curious as to how he’ll bring the subject up, and not inclined after this summer to make it easier for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     He took a seat as she did so, and now picks up his own cup of tea. There’s quiet for a moment as they both drink some of their respective drinks, before he finally sets his cup back down and speaks. “I thought Harry might end up with you in Gryffindor. The boy would be the spitting image of his father were it not for having his mother’s eyes, and the scar, of course. Uncanny, the resemblance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Of course. Although I’d say he favors his mother’s personality more,” she tells him. “Even made friends with one of the new Slytherin students. Can’t say that’s something James Potter would have done his first year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I did see he was standing next to Lucius Malfoy’s son,” Dumbledore notes. “Friends, you say? I thought they had simply ended up next to each other coming in from the train.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     McGonagall nods her head. “Oh no, the boys met in Diagon Alley when Severus and I took Mr. Potter to get his school things. Hagrid got him an owl for his birthday, so I imagine they kept in touch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Ah, interesting.” He seems to think about this for a moment, before he continues. “In any case, I wanted to speak with you on another matter concerning Harry. More specifically, his magical guardianship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     McGonagall sets her cup down. “Yes? What about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “I believe it would be in his best interest if I remained his guardian, considering his unique circumstances.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “They’re hardly </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> unique,” she argues. “Hogwarts has had orphaned students before, and their Head of Houses have stepped in as magical guardians since the early days of the school. I am surprised, though, that full guardianship didn’t go to his Muggle family. Shouldn’t that have been the case, with the Ministry assigning someone to assist in any magic related circumstances, like helping them access Mr. Potter’s Gringotts vault and such?” She has had a month to wonder about these things. Nothing about Harry’s situation seems to adhere to how she knows these things are supposed to be handled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Minerva, you have met Harry’s family; would it have been wise to give them access to the Potter fortune?” She can’t argue that he has a point there, and he takes her silence as agreement so he continues. “Cornelius and I discussed it after placing him with the Dursleys, and since we had no way of knowing if Voldemort was truly gone, we thought it best to keep Harry’s whereabouts on a need-to-know basis so if he should return, the child would be safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “And after? It has been a near decade, Albus. I have never understood the decision to leave him there indefinitely. There’s been nary a sign of </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>; the Ministry could have resumed their responsibilities to the boy. Even so, James and Lily Potter surely named a magical guardian if he was going to end up with her Muggle family; why not have them check on him if neither you nor the Ministry could?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Dumbledore sighs. “Unfortunately, Sirius Black was the appointed guardian. You know he betrayed the Potters. Even if he were not in Azkaban and therefore incapable of performing those duties, he clearly would be unfit to do so. There was no one else named, so I stepped in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     It all sounds so reasonable, but McGonagall can’t help the feeling that things were not done the way they should have been, and thus Harry had suffered the consequences. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>     “Very noble of you,” McGonagall finally says, and if she sounds a little sarcastic, well, she is around children all day. “Well as you said, you’re a busy man. So respectfully, I think it best I take over his guardianship as his Head of House as I’ll have the ability to take on a more active role than your duties have allowed. Especially since as deputy headmistress, it is in the school’s best interest that you continue to be able to perform all your duties as headmaster. Unless there’s another reason you feel I am not up to the task?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     It is so rare for them to disagree like this, that she’s not sure she’s ever outright challenged him on something the way she is now. In fact, Dumbledore is no longer smiling at her, and instead seems to be studying her, taking her in as he forms a response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Everything from her tone of voice, to the way she’s seated in her chair ramrod straight, to the very tilt of her chin makes it obvious that this is a challenge she will not back down from. Whether it’s the approach he’s miscalculated, or simply the level of which her visit to the boy’s family this summer upset her, he isn’t sure. One thing is certain, though, and that is that as he was not legally appointed by the Potters, he cannot override the old magical laws that govern the school and is upheld by the Ministry without additional intervention that would require the involvement of the Board of Governors, the Department of Magical Education, and either the International Magical Office of Law--which technically was also the Domestic Magical Office of Law--or the Wizengamot itself, if not both. It would turn into a grand spectacle and raise questions as to the necessity of it, and would it really be worth it in the end?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     McGonagall meets Dumbledore’s piercing gaze, unmoved, and unbothered by the silence. Her intention is not to question his motives; the man is powerful, not perfect, and things were getting dark by the end of the war. Whether what he’d done was actually for the best is debatable, but she thinks he truly means it when he says he believed it was. It just wasn’t enough. After all, she had seen with her own eyes the conditions Harry had been raised in. On the surface, from the outside looking in, it seemed fine. But a closer look revealed an upbringing no child should have to endure, famous or not, whether magical or Muggle. It is unconscionable to her that Albus, her one-time mentor and friend, continues to make excuses as if she hadn’t already told him what her and Snape’s visit had revealed. That his pride would come before that knowledge, keeping him from seeing why things had to change for Harry’s sake, frustrates her to no end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>     Finally, Dumbledore smiles at her. “I would never question your ability with </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> task, my dear. If you are certain, I will say no more on the matter.” With that, he picks up his tea and seamlessly changes the subject. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter title is from Billy Joel's "Honesty". </p><p>Do you guys have a favorite dark academia themed playlist? If so, share it in the comments here or on tumble (writingmyselfout.tumblr.com)! I tend to queue those up in playlists, sometimes along with HP/House Common Room themed playlists, or with the Sorcerer's Stone soundtrack, when I'm writing this fic. Keeps me from getting distracted by the music to have stuff I can't sing along to, lol.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter Seven: Absolute Beginners</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Classes begin.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ugh, I'm so sorry about how long this took to update. I meant to get this up well over a week ago. My health and depression were bad enough, but something about this specific chapter just refused to work. I restarted it like three times before I managed to get this out, and I considered cutting a bunch out because I'd intended to get through the first week in this chapter, but I realized if I did that, there was no telling when I'd finish it. I'm not happy with it, but at least it's done, and the next should be easier to complete.</p><p>Again, sorry for the long wait. I didn't want any more than a week between chapters and failed that. ;-;</p><p>But in better news, I got my first vaccine shot this past week, and I get my next the first week of May! So yay! Now go enjoy the chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>THE ten boys that make up the Gryffindor first years are led by Percy to the dorms. The stairs coming up from the common room lead to a large, circular room with seven doors. There are candles floating above them, a large circular rug on the ground that almost reaches the walls, and portraits on the walls between the doors. Percy tells them all the portraits that could be found on the walls here, in the girls’ dorm, and in the common room were all notable former Gryffindors who were given portraits elsewhere in the castle, and could move between the portraits. Then he points to his right, to the first door on the left coming up from the stairs, which has a golden Roman numeral “I” near the center top of the door.</p><p>     “This is your dorm room here. As you can see, it currently has a one on it.” He points to the next door--the second from the left--which has a golden Roman numeral “VII”, then to the other side of them at the first door on the right which has a golden Roman numeral “II”. “This will change every year until you graduate, as these will be your rooms for your time here at Hogwarts.</p><p>     “You’ll find your trunks and things were moved to the end of your assigned bed, but these assignments aren’t permanent. If you wish to switch, you’re welcome to do so.” Percy puts his hands behind his back, looking them over as he continues. “Now, curfew for first and second year students is eight o’clock, so you are expected to be back in the Gryffindor common room by that time. This will be noted on your class schedules, which you will receive during breakfast tomorrow. Now, any questions?”</p><p>     Harry looks around at the others, but most are quiet or simply shaking their heads. Chances were they were as overwhelmed with information as he was. Percy had been a fount of knowledge, providing them with information as he showed them the way up to the Gryffindor tower. It had been a lot, though, and now they’re all ready to just get into their room and turn in.</p><p>     “Very well. Good night, and welcome to Gryffindor.” He nods at them, heading back down into the Gryffindor common room where they had seen some of the older students lingering. No doubt to scold said students into turning in, as Harry had heard him muttering about students staying up past midnight when they’d first come in through the portrait of the Fat Lady guarding the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.</p><p>     The first year boys move as a group towards their dorm room door, a black boy who’d introduced himself as Dean Thomas reaching the door first and pushing it open. There’s a small entryway off which there are two doors; one to the left and one to the right. Each leads into a half circle room much larger than anticipated, as each is a half circle with five large, four-poster beds lined up against the circular outer wall, a trunk at the foot of each bed, and a large window with space to sit on the sill on the wall to either side of every bed. Harry finds his trunk in the room to the right, at the foot of the center bed, with Neville Longbottom to one side of him, and Dean on the other. The last two beds in the room are taken up by Seamus Finnegan and a boy by the name of Amos MacGovern. </p><p>     The inner wall has a second door halfway down, which leads Harry when he goes through into the communal bathroom between the two rooms. To his left are six shower stalls, three on each side, and on the wall between the two sides is a row of hooks above for towels and a hamper underneath for dirty clothes. A small nameplate above the hooks denotes which hook and hamper belongs to whom. To his right, there are urinals and stalls across from them. The wall between the two sides there curves like the other outer wall of the bedroom, with two long mirrors on either side of a small window. A row of sinks is beneath the mirrors, with a pile of small hand towels to one side of each faucet, and another hamper basket located underneath the window.</p><p>     Harry isn’t sure what he was expecting, but it’s all rather fancier than he anticipated. Thankfully, he’s not the only one, as a few of the other boys seem equally surprised. Soon, the late hour and the long day they’d all had catches up, and one by one they start to turn in. Harry opts for a quick shower, thinking there’s no way he’ll be able to sleep. He’s seen so many magical things already, he’s excited to see what his actual classes will be like, and is certain that he’ll be up all night imaging them.But when he lays down on what is easily the softest, most comfortable bed he’s ever known, sleep is quick to overtake him.</p><p>     When he wakes again, it’s to the quiet sounds of breathing with an occasional snore he thinks may be coming from Nevile to his right. He’s not sure what woke him, perhaps something he’d dreamed, but the longer he’s awake the harder it is for him to recall what that might have been. All he succeeds in doing is making himself fully awake, so he gets up and quietly gets ready for the day by dim candlelight as the sky outside the windows is only just starting to lighten, the sun not yet high enough in the sky to light the tower room. By the time he’s done, the school’s bells ring the hour, the seven gongs rousing many of his roommates. </p><p>     He grabs his school bag, making sure to put some parchment and quills inside. He’s not sure what else to include, not knowing yet what classes they’ll have or whether they’ll be required to have their books the first day, so he opts to leave them for now. Lastly, he grabs his wand. He’d been apprehensive about the thing after first getting it, after Mr. Ollivander’s words in the shop. But Professor McGonagall’s easy dismissal of that information repeated every time he thought of it, making it much easier to set his fears aside. Now, he can hardly wait for his first chance to use it.</p><p>     “M-Mornin’, Harry,” Neville greets. “Could I go down to breakfast with you? I-I don’t think I remember the way…” Neville trails off, quiet voice uncertain, but Harry is already nodding at him.</p><p>     “Sure, I’ll wait in the common room,” he says. He doesn’t add that he’s not really sure of the way himself, but he was planning on asking one of the older students anyway so he heads down now in search of someone to ask while Neville rushes to get ready.</p><p>     Of course, it would be much easier to talk to the older students if they weren’t still whispering amongst themselves when they see him, or openly staring with curiosity. It makes Harry fidget in place, and he ends up wandering instead to the bulletin board to give himself something to do while he waits for more students, and Neville, to come down. There isn’t anything there except a “Welcome New Gryffindors” announcement, along with a notification that the Quidditch team would be looking for a new Seeker, tryouts pending, but encouraging any interested to apply. </p><p>     Harry has reread the Quidditch notice a few times, remembering and debating with himself on whether or not he should go grab his <em> Quidditch Through the Ages </em> book from his trunk, when Neville comes stumbling over, his robes askew. He’s out of breath, and Harry realizes he must’ve been rushing to keep him from waiting.</p><p>     “Neville, you didn’t have to run down,” he tells him. “Most people haven’t even come down yet.”</p><p>     Neville turns red as he drops his bag and adjusts his robes. “I-I know. I’m just hungry, is all.” He looks slightly more presentable, although his tie is askew, when he picks his bag back up. “D’you know what books we’re to bring? I wasn’t sure…”</p><p>     “No,” Harry responds, shaking his head. “Percy said last night we’ll get our schedule at breakfast. Maybe we should ask him if we’ll need our books?”</p><p>     “Do you think we won’t?”</p><p>     The surprised question draws their attention to the side, where Hermione Granger has come down from the girls’ dormitory. Her bag looks full to bursting, and Harry guesses she’s shoved a number of their books in there. </p><p>     He shrugs at her. “Can’t say, but I don’t think we’d need <em> all </em>of them today,” he points out. </p><p>     Hermione frowns down at her bag at this, seeming to think, before she looks up. She’s about to say something when her eyes are drawn to the stairs behind them. “Oh! Percy!”</p><p>     Percy blinks over at them, surprised, and perhaps not entirely awake. “Hm? Yes?”</p><p>     “We were just wondering, will we need our textbooks for the first day?”</p><p>     “Ah, well that depends,” he tells them, coming down the rest of the stairs and walking over to stand next to Neville. “Some professors barely use their books beyond assigning homework, while for others it’s an integral part of the class. Personally, I like to have them on me. You never know when they may be needed, and if nothing else they’re useful to have if you get extra time during or between classes so to get a headstart on homework.”</p><p>     Hermione is nodding her head, seemingly in agreement with this line of thinking. Harry doesn’t think he likes the idea of carrying <em> all </em> his books though, so he asks, “You carry all of your textbooks? Every day?”</p><p>     “Merlin, no,” Percy replies. “You don’t take <em> all </em> your classes in a day; I highly suggest taking only the ones for the day’s classes. You’ll get your schedule at breakfast this morning, as I mentioned last night, so if you’re quick, you can come back and grab what you’ll need.”</p><p>     “I guess that makes sense,” Hermione concedes. “I’m going to go put these away.” She starts back towards the girls’ dorms, then pauses and looks back. “Could you wait for me? I’d like to make sure I remember the way back to the Great Hall so I don’t get lost coming back for them later.”</p><p>     “Oh yeah, Neville and I can’t remember the way either,” Harry says, looking over at Percy. He catches sight of the prefect badge sitting prominently on the other boy’s chest and adds on instinct, “Figured who better to ask than a prefect.”</p><p>     Standing a little straighter, Percy nods. “Of course. I’d be more than glad to show you the way. As one of Gryffindor’s top students, I’m also more than happy to provide answers to any additional questions you might have. It’s very important to take your studies seriously early on, after all--”</p><p>     He’s interrupted mid-sentence by an arm wrapping itself around his neck and tugging him down. “Percy! It’s too early for lectures!” The twins have seemingly materialized out of nowhere, the one with his arm wrapped around their older brother’s neck taking the opportunity to muss his hair to boot.</p><p>     “Mornin’,” the other twin greets. “Either of you see Ron up this morning?”</p><p>     Harry shakes his head, telling them that he and Neville are in the opposite room, but Neville adds, “M-Most of the others were up, b-but I didn’t see him in the bathroom before I left.”</p><p>     There’s a sigh, and the one who’d asked looks over at his brother. “D’you think ickel Ronniekins would sleep-in the first day, Fred?”</p><p>     “Sounds like him,” Fred nods. “Shouldn’t you go wake him, Perce?”</p><p>     Percy manages to finally shove his brother off, his face red as he runs a hand through his hair to fix it. “If you’re so concerned, <em> you </em> go wake him,” he grumbles. “I don’t have time to wait for him to get ready; I am showing some of the first years the way down to the Great Hall, and Professor McGonagall may need my assistance getting the schedules out, so I must be on time.”</p><p>     “Oh, of <em> course </em> .” Fred smacks his forehead. “George, Percy’s a <em> prefect </em>!”</p><p>     “How could we forget?”</p><p>     “A grave oversight.”</p><p>     “He’s much too important for us now.”</p><p>     “Alas, how shall we go on?”</p><p>     “That’s quite enough,” Percy interrupts. “I believe mum asked you two to keep an eye on Ron anyhow. So go wake him and make sure he isn’t late on his first day.” Percy, seeing Hermione rejoin them, doesn’t wait to see if his brothers obey as he motions for the trio of first years to follow. He therefore misses the salute the twins direct at him, followed by the faces at his back before they wave at Harry and head back up the stairs.</p><p>     Percy and Hermione pick up the conversation regarding the classes that they had begun the night before. He mentions the electives that become available starting third year briefly, but emphasizes that it’s important for them to focus on their current classes, as they would continue to take most of them for the duration of their time at Hogwarts with few exceptions, and the better they were at the basics, the better they would be prepared for their O.W.L.S. come fifth year. Before he could launch into a full-blown explanation of the exams, however, they reached a moving staircase and he instead turned his attention to explaining the best way to keep track of where they are in the castle.</p><p>     For all that Harry thinks he can get rather long-winded, Percy’s explanation on how to get around the castle actually makes quite a bit of sense. He points out that there are fixtures that don’t move that they can use to identify what floor they’re on, such as the frames of the portraits, though the inhabitants themselves might wander. There were also statues and most of the suits of armor weren’t prone to wandering themselves, although they sometimes did, so he advised against trusting them implicitly. When in doubt, they could always ask the portraits for assistance, or even some of the castle ghosts, though he advised against ever asking Peeves, as he was likely to purposely misdirect them for his own amusement. </p><p>     In no time at all, they were at the Great Hall, and Percy left them to go sit with some of the Gryffindors of his year that were already having breakfast. There was a spattering of students across the different Houses already up and having breakfast, but the three of them were the first of the Gryffindor first years, so they sat together. More students came trickling in after them, until eventually the Great Hall was almost as full as it had been the night before. Harry spots Draco coming in yawning and thinks he’ll wave, but the other boy doesn’t look over, sleepily taking his seat next to some other Slytherin first years. </p><p>     Shortly after the school bells ring out the eight o’clock hour, they’re treated to the sight of hundreds of owls flying in through a window. Harry looks on in awe at the sight of so many birds flying about, swooping down to deliver letters and packages to various students and a few staff members, before flying off again. Neville gets a small package that contains a pair of protective gloves and a note from his Gran, and he blushes at realizing he’d forgotten them at home. Once all the owls have cleared the room, each Head of House with assistance from their prefects begin passing out the student schedules. Hermione is bouncing in her seat, unable to contain her excitement as they finally receive their schedule.</p><p>     Harry looks at his, and over at Neville’s. “So our classes are all together then, right?” He is fairly certain that’s what Percy had told them the night before.</p><p>     “Yes, and look.” Hermione leans forward to point at Harry’s schedule in front of him. “It looks like we have some with the other Houses, too.”</p><p>     Harry looks back down to where she points, and sure enough, a small letter in parenthesis can be found next to some of their classes. Herbology three times a week with Hufflepuff, and Magical Theory four times a week and double Potions on Friday with Slytherin, by the looks of it. </p><p> </p>
<table>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>

<p>D/T</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>MONDAY</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>TUESDAY</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>WEDNESDAY</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>THURSDAY</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>FRIDAY</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>

<p>8:00</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>breakfast</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>breakfast</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>breakfast</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>breakfast</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>breakfast</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>

<p>9:00</p>
</td>
<td>

<p><b>Herbology(H)</b></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><b>Herbology(H)</b></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><b>Herbology(H)</b></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><b>DADA</b></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><b>Potions(S)</b></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>

<p>10:30</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>break</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>break</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>break</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>break</p>
</td>
<td>

<p><b>Potions(S)</b></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>

<p>11:00</p>
</td>
<td>

<p><b>Transfiguration</b></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><b>Transfiguration</b></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><b>Transfiguration</b></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><b>Charms</b></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><b>Potions(S)</b></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>

<p>12:30</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>lunch</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>lunch</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>lunch</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>lunch</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>lunch</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>

<p>13:30</p>
</td>
<td>

<p><b>DADA</b></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><b>Charms</b></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><b>History of Magic</b></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><b>History of Magic</b></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><b>Free</b></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>

<p>15:00</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>break</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>break</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>break</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>break</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>break</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>

<p>15:30</p>
</td>
<td>

<p><b>Magical Theory(S)</b></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><b>Magical Theory(S)</b></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><b>Magical Theory(S)</b></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><b>Magical Theory(S)</b></p>
</td>
<td>

<p><b>Free</b></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>

<p>17:00</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>dinner</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>dinner</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>dinner</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>dinner</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>dinner</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>

<p>20:00</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>curfew</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>curfew</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>curfew</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>curfew</p>
</td>
<td>

<p>curfew</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>

<p>0:00</p>
</td>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
<td>

<p><b>Astronomy (A)</b></p>
</td>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table><p> </p><p>     “I don’t think we have anything with the Ravenclaws,” he notes aloud. </p><p>     “Except Astronomy,” Hermione corrects. “Percy mentioned last night that Astronomy is always the entire year, as it’s only one night a week per year.” She quickly finishes the bit of toast on her plate, takes a big drink of juice and then stands up. “I’m going to go back upstairs to get my books then.”</p><p>     “A-All of them?” Neville questions, getting up to do the same. </p><p>     Harry has eaten plenty, definitely way more than he’s used to in the morning, so he gets up to follow as well. “We can probably go back up during lunch to switch books out, right?:” </p><p>     Hermione spends the rest of the way upstairs arguing that it would be better to just grab them all so that they can take any extra time between classes and during lunch to review. Neville worriedly asks if they think they’ll get so much work on just the first day, while Harry admits he’d rather just not have to carry it all. In the end, Hermione isn’t dissuaded and grabs the four books relating to their classes for the day. Neville is about to do the same when he sees Harry only grabbing the morning ones, and then he hesitates. He’s torn between wanting to be as prepared as Hermione seems to be to face the day, and wanting to seem as nonchalant as the other boy. Harry notices the indecision, isn’t sure what Neville’s exact thought process on the matter is, but opts to grab his other books if only to ease his new friend’s mind on the manner. Sure enough, seeing Harry grab the last of the books, Neville does the same and seems mildly calmer as the three of them head down to the greenhouses for their first class in Herbology.</p><p>     Harry thinks that if Cinderella’s fairy godmother had been a witch, she’d have looked like Professor Sprout. She is a round, short witch with flyaway gray hair under a patched and fraying hat, in equally patched robes, with one of the kindest faces and easiest smiles he’s ever seen on a teacher and he immediately likes her. She’s quick to inform them that their wand use in this class will be limited to what will be necessary as it relates to Herbology, and that for the first few weeks, they’ll be reviewing the most common plants and their properties, and more specifically what their uses are which will help them when it comes to applying that knowledge in their Potions classes. </p><p>     When class ends, all the students head back up to the castle together before splitting off to go to their respective classes. The Hufflepuffs headed on to History of Magic, which they had all heard rumored to be taught by an actual ghost, and the Gryffindors to Transfiguration with their Head of House.</p><p>     The class was surprised and delighted when in her explanation of what Transfiguration entailed she transformed her desk into a pig and then back again. It set them up to be sorely disappointed though when, instead of instructing them to take their wands out to do the same, she informs them that they will first be reviewing the basics of Transfiguration in their text as, she explains, it’s important they understand the fundamentals to ensure they know what it is they are trying to accomplish when attempting to transfigure an item.</p><p>     As class is about to end, Professor McGonagall informs them, “Finish the first chapter of the text and then write an essay explaining the importance of the basic rules of Transifguration. As it is your first essay, I will not give you a length requirement, however I do expect a thorough explanation to ensure you are understanding the material. You will turn in your essays as soon as you arrive in my class tomorrow. Perhaps then we will move on to some actual transfiguration work.”</p><p>     There is a round of murmuring that begins, complaints about having homework so soon as well as excited guessing as to what they’ll be tasked to transfigure first, which dwindles to silence at their Head of House’s stern stare and a single clearing of her throat. Once they have quieted down, she instructs them to pack up their books.</p><p>     “Mr. Potter.” Harry looks up from where he’d been leaning over to put his book back into his schoolbag to find the professor looking at him from over her glasses. “If you’ll stay back a moment, please? I have something to discuss with you.” </p><p>     Harry nods his head in understanding, wondering what she might have to speak with him about. Neville gives him a nervous look, offering to wait for him to be finished to go to lunch, but Harry waves him off with Hermione. He doesn’t know if he’s in trouble, can’t think of why he might be, but he’s sure that if he’s the first in their year to do so, he’d rather keep it to himself for as long as possible. A few of the others try to linger, curious to find out why their most famous classmate is being asked to stay behind already, but they’re quickly shooed out of the room. Once they’re alone, Professor McGonagall goes over to her desk and takes a seat, motioning for Harry to come over.</p><p>     “Yes, Professor?”</p><p>     She’s quiet for a moment as she looks at him, as if she’s trying to decide how to proceed, when she says, “Take a seat, Mr. Potter.” She waves her wand, and the nearest desk moves forward so he can sit directly across from her, turning into a cushioned seat as he does so. Harry takes the seat, pretty confident now that he’s not in trouble, and instead curious as to what this is about.</p><p>     “Harry,” she finally says softly. “Now that you are a student here at Hogwarts, specifically as one of my charges in Gryffindor, your guardianship in the wizarding world falls to me.”</p><p>     “What does that mean?” he asks.</p><p>     McGonagall takes a moment, trying to decide how to explain without overwhelming this child with more information than he really needs. “It means that when it comes to your life in the wizarding world, in regards to magical law, education, and such, I am the adult in charge of making decisions for you.” She anticipates his first question and holds a hand up, adding, “The Dursleys are still your legal guardians, you understand. However, as they are Muggles with no understanding of--or desire to be educated on--the ways of <em> our </em> world, it falls to me as your Head of House to ensure you are positioned to succeed in our world.</p><p>     “It also affords me access to legal documents as they pertain to you.” She leans forward now, meeting his gaze directly. “More specifically, it allows me to get your parents’ will from Gringotts.”</p><p>     “Their will?” Harry is surprised. He hadn’t thought about his parents having a will, but then he’d also never thought that they’d had some secret fortune the Dursleys didn’t know about.</p><p>     The professor nods her head. “Yes. As I’m sure you noted during your visit, your parents left you quite a fortune. The Potters were a wealthy family, and although your parents chose not to live there, as far as I’m aware there once <em> was </em> an estate. It may have been sold, for all I know, but I imagine that if nothing else, the will outlines precisely what was to be left to you and what their last wishes were in regards to your care.”</p><p>     “My care? You mean, maybe...maybe I wasn’t meant to be left with the Dursleys…?” Harry’s hesitant to ask, but he feels a bit of hope blossom in his chest that when the school year is over, he won’t have to return to that house on Privet Drive.</p><p>     She hesitates, not wanting to lie to him but also not entirely wanting to bring up Sirius Black just yet. Someday, he’ll need to know about his father’s former best friend, but she hopes to put it off for some time. “From what I understand, your aunt is the only living relative from either side of your family. That being said, without seeing the will, we won’t know for certain what their final wishes were in regards to your care or what was to be left to you beyond access to the Potter vault.” She watches him for a moment before adding softly, “I understand if this is a lot right now. At the earliest, I won’t be able to go to Gringotts until this weekend. I can get the will, and when you’re ready, you can ask to see it.”</p><p>     Harry nods his head in understanding, thinking. Maybe there won’t be anything life changing in the will that hasn’t already happened--telling him he’s a wizard and that he’s inherited a fortune--but it would be another part of his parents. Something he previously didn’t have, so his vague nod becomes decisive. “I want to know.” </p><p>     Professor McGonagall nods her head in understanding, telling him she’ll inform him once she has gotten the will. She makes a mental note as she watches him leave to let Snape and Flitwick know she will be gone a few hours come Saturday, so they can make themselves available for her students should they need anything, though she doubts so early in the year anything will come up. Even if something would, she finds she’s likely more impatient to get to the will than her charge, hoping that the Potters had in fact had other guardians in mind for their child if Sirius Black could not complete his duty as one. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter title is the name of a David Bowie song. I actually had another chapter title in mind, then realized it would work better for a later chapter, so I changed it last minute. &lt;_&lt;</p><p>I spent a stupidly long amount of time figuring out the first year schedule. I have it written down for all the Houses, so I know exactly who has what class at what time, and which houses share which classes. I tried to match up what I could with what we know is canon (double potions Friday, Astronomy midnight Wednesdays, Flying Thursdays with Slytherin, and Charms was one of their classes before lunch on Halloween), but in order to make this work, I am fairly certain I blew some of canon off 'cause it just didn't make sense. Which comes from the actual class schedule in canon not being set beyond what was needed to move the plot along. </p><p>Anyway, I'm likely going to be taking a trip in June which will likely put another pause in updates, so between now and then my goal is to get 1 - 2 chapters up a week. I don't yet have a solid idea of how many chapters this is going to be, maybe by the time I finish the next chapter, but I do know I'd like to have it done before the end of the summer. Wish me luck!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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